


Callidus Prince and the Poisoned Fang

by ContraryToEverything



Series: Callidus Prince [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dark Arts, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 159,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContraryToEverything/pseuds/ContraryToEverything
Summary: In the second year at Hogwarts, Callidus(Severus) and his friends face the threat of a mysterious new disease, and rising conflict centered around blood status.  AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money off this story

Summer 1992

 

Callidus was unsure of what to make of his new foster family.  The only wizarding family that he had known were the Malfoys, and considering that they were at the very apex of the social ladder, they could hardly be considered an appropriate measuring stick to compare other wizarding families against.  Not everyone lived in lavish manors on extensive estates, served by a multitude of eager house elves, ready to cater to one's every whim.  If that were the case, the wizarding world would be populated by far to many Draco-types, and one spoiled, self-absorbed Malfoy heir was enough for the world.

 

Callidus's new family, the Filodoxos, lived in the half-wizarding village of Wimbourne, in a modest Tudor style townhouse.  Their home contained only two mild-mannered magical portraits, but it did have a nice (though small) colour changing stained-glass window, and talking mirrors that were much less critical than the ones at Malfoy manor.   Their coat rack was a bit on the grabby-side, and for some reason, there were numerous decorative ceramic shepherdesses that would not stop batting their eyelashes and cooing at Callidus. The chinaware wasn’t as ornate as the Malfoys, and there was one particular tea cup with a penchant for dancing little jigs, but it was an otherwise orderly household.

  
Of the family, there was Segnis Filodoxos, a man in his mid-thirties with a mop of tight curly blond hair that seemed fitting for his perennially sunny temperament; Quinta Filodoxos, a broad woman of the same age, with lanky brown hair that could rival his own, who was the undisputed matriarch, ruling the household like a fickle tyrant, benevolent one moment and ruthless the next, but who seemed to favour Callidus; and Caiside Filodoxos, their daughter who was a year younger than Callidus.  Caiside, for reasons that Callidus hadn't entirely figured out yet (though he had his suspicions) appeared to dislike him, or at least mistrusted him.  She had never really spoken to him in the time that he was there, but occasionally glared at him through the curtains of her curly, red-brown hair.  Admittedly, he had only been at the Filodoxos residence for a week, but he wasn’t too optimistic about his relationship with Caiside.

 

Caiside appeared to have a strained relationship with her parents.  Callidus didn't know if the situation had always been so uncomfortable, or if his presence had anything to do with it, but as far as he could tell, he hasn't done anything to cause offence.  Quinta Filodoxos usually spoke to Caiside by barking orders or making some sort of critical remark about all manner of little things, and in contrast, she was exceedingly accommodating to Callidus.  That in and of itself was rather uncomfortable.  As for Segnis Filodoxos, he was absorbed in his own inner universe of music, and often acted oblivious to the world around him.  

 

Quinta Filodoxos worked at a potions lab for a private company, and Callidus noticed her secretive behaviours regarding her work.  She rarely ever spoke of her current projects, but seemed to enjoy discussing potions theory.  Having learned of Callidus’s skills in potions on the day they met, Quinta Filodoxos (or Madam Filodoxos, as she preferred to be called) immediately felt a sort of kinship towards Callidus, herding him into the position of an ‘adopted son,’ whether Callidus wanted it or not.  Segnis (“Mr. Filodoxos is my father - call me Seggi”) was a musician, who played the harpsichord.  Some of his songs were even played on the Wizarding Wireless Network, though admittedly, his music was more likely to appeal to older crowds - the sort that might wear robes with too many frills and ruffles, and were perfectly comfortable accessorizing with monocles.  He was distantly friendly towards Callidus, not at all in the over-accommodating way that Madam Filodoxos was.

 

At the moment, the family was sitting at the breakfast table, being served by the sole house elf owned by the family.  The elf managed enough of the household that the family did not usually have to worry about any of the major household duties, but it wasn't enough to provide a life of indolence.  Unlike Draco, Callidus had to put on his own robes and clean his own teeth and brush his own hair.  In theory, if Draco decided he never wanted to lift another finger again he could probably ask one of his family's house elves to hand feed him, manually move his jaw for him, and then massage his throat to swallow.  Not that Draco would do such a thing (or so Callidus hoped.)

 

Madam Filodoxos was currently reading the _Daily Prophet_ , her expression pleased by whatever article she was reading.  Segnis was softly humming an upbeat melody, tapping one hand on the table while he scribbled down song lyrics with the other.  He was munching on a piece of toast, which he absently levitated up to his mouth with each bite.  As for Caiside, she was petulantly stabbing at a slice of fried tomato, as though the piece of produce had somehow personally offended her sensibilities and deserved a messy death by skewering.  This activity was punctuated by resentful glares at Callidus, and he did not doubt that she imagined skewering him as well.  Or at least feeding him to her garden of aggressive or poisonous magical plants, which was apparently some sort of hobby of hers.

 

“The Magical Child Protection Act is gaining supporters,” Madam Filodoxos commented, rustling the pages of the newspaper.  “It’s about time.  The notion of any magical child having to suffer the fate of living with muggles is horrifying.  Frankly, they ought to take them away at birth and nip that problem in the bud.”

 

This comment did not seem to be directed at anyone in particular, but Callidus had the feeling that Madam Filodoxos was speaking to him.  Segnis was still tapping some melody on the table, his head bobbing to some internal beat and Caiside just made a noncommittal humming sound.

 

 “My friend’s father had a role in writing that bill,” Callidus informed her.  It wasn't that he particularly wished to be drawn into conversation, but it felt rude to leave the comment unanswered.  Besides, he had an interest in the bill.  

 

 “Did he now?” Madam Filodoxos replied, with an intrigued look.  “You must have made some excellent connections in your year at Hogwarts.”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes, but did not contribute to the conversation.  Callidus wasn't sure what to think.  Was the eye roll directed at him or at her mother?  She did tend to roll her eyes at her mother and father a lot.  It struck Callidus as being a bit puerile, but to be fair, he couldn't imagine being a bundle of sunshine if someone was always either critiquing him or ignoring him.  But since Caiside hadn't done that much to endear herself to him, Callidus only felt the smallest bit of sympathy.  Perhaps enough sympathy to fill a bottle cap.  Or less.

 

 “Yes, it's a prestigious school.”  Callidus didn't exactly want to drop names.  Draco may have been his brother/friend, but that didn't mean that Callidus felt the inclination to talk about the Malfoys if he didn't have to.  Draco already did enough of that.

 

 “Indeed.  Hopefully our Caiside will be improved in her time there,” Madam Filodoxos gave Caiside a rather put-upon look, as though having to be her mother was some immense burden.  Somehow, Callidus managed not to squirm from the weight of the awkwardness of the situation.  He was almost tempted to say something in Cassie's defence.  But seeing as he knew nothing about her, there was really nothing to add.

 

 “Considering you and father went there, I have my doubts,” Caiside muttered under her breath.  Callidus, who heard her since he was seated next to her, raised his eyebrow.

 

 “Don't mumble, Caiside,” Madam Filodoxos chided.  “It's unladylike.  How are going to fit in with the right sort if you can't even articulate your words?”

 

 “Of course, mother,” Caiside answered sarcastically.  “Mustn't fall in with the wrong crowd must I?  Only the inbred sort will do.”

 

Callidus couldn't help a snort of amusement, but ended up covering it up with a cough.  

 

Madam Filodoxos glared at her daughter, her colour rising.  “Show some respect Caiside!   You're speaking of the most important, most influential witches and wizards in the country.”

 

Segnis suddenly stopped humming and tapping his tune, and Callidus wondered if the man would finally decide to mediate the rising conflict between mother and daughter.  “What rhymes with ‘happy?’  Nappy?  Sappy?  Yappy?”

 

Caiside scoffed.  “How about ‘horribly crappy?’” Callidus snorted again, and Caiside gave him a mildly surprised look before scowling again.

 

Segnis furrowed his brow.  “Hrm.  Nice and bouncy, little songbird, but - hrm - no, no, I really think it won't do.  Conflicts with the message of the whole song, you know.” With that, he started to mumble a series of rhymes, tuning out his family once again.

 

 “It's too bad the Magical Child Protection Act wasn't put in place years ago,” Callidus remarked, trying to veer the topic back on track.  “It was - unpleasant, to say the least, growing up with muggles.”

 

Caiside’s jaw dropped, and her near-black eyes widened in surprise.  “You - what - I thought -” Caiside blinked rapidly.   “ _You_ were raised by a muggles?”

 

Callidus's expression darkened as he recalled the past.  “Yes, well, my father was a muggle.”

 

Caiside gasped.  “What?  A muggle?  Not even a - a muggleborn?”

 

Callidus shrugged in response.  Did Caiside think less of him for not having pure, untainted blood?  Was all her talk just for show?

 

 “What’s this talk about muggles?” Segnis muttered, looking bemused.  “Brutish creatures.  How did we get onto this topic.  Did you know that they have a device that can make holes in a person?  I believe it is called a muskey?  Musker?  Musket?  No, no, Musker sounds right.”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes at her father.  “Thank you for that helpful contribution, dad” she said sarcastically before turning back to Callidus.  “You - you're a Prince!  One of _those_ families.  How can you be -” Caiside turned to look at her mother, her expression accusing.  “Did you know this mum?”

 

Madam Filodoxos sniffed, irritated by the turn of the conversation.  “This is hardly appropriate conversation for the breakfast table.  Callidus is an upstanding young man, and a direct descendant of the Princes.”

 

Caiside still appeared shocked.  “I never would have thought I'd hear _you_ defend a half-blood mum.  Really.  I ought to be marking this day down for posterity.  'Mum is less of a bigot so long as an old pure-blood name is involved.’ Merlin, what a miracle.” Her voice dripped irony.  

 

Madam Filodoxos looked like she was ready to sputter an offended reply, but Caiside turned back to Callidus, cutting her mother off.  “What was it like, growing up with muggles?  All I ever hear about is how they plan to burn us all at the stake, or, dissect us in labs or - or fly their airplanes at us.”

 

 “What?” Callidus raised his eyebrow incredulously.  “I don’t think there has been a witch burning in centuries, and I’m fairly certain that airplanes are meant to transport passengers.  I’m not sure about the labs though.  But frankly, growing up with muggles was unpleasant.  They can be very small minded, and even without magic, they’re capable of a great deal of cruelty.”

 

Caiside looked surprisingly disappointed by this answer.  “Oh.  I thought - well - nevermind what I thought.”

 

 “That said, I don’t lump muggleborns in with muggles,” Callidus continued.  “Some of the brightest witches I’ve ever met are muggleborns.”

 

Caiside brightened.  She shot a smug look at her mother.  “ _Really_.  That’s interesting.  You know, you’re not what I expected, Callidus.  You’re not so bad.”

 

 “Thank you for the glowing praise,” Callidus drawled.

 

 “I don’t think all muggleborns are bad,” Madam Filodoxos interjected.  “But there is no denying that they are ruining our culture with their ways, and every muggleborn represents a threat of our discovery.  That’s why I am in such strong support of the Magical Child Protection Act.”

 

 “Oh?  Muggleborns aren’t so bad, mum?  So -” Caiside’s expression became sly, “- if I met a nice muggleborn boy at Hogwarts and wanted to get married -”

 

Madam Filodoxos gasped.  “I’ve had enough of this, Caiside Filodoxos!  I know you’re deliberately trying to provoke me, and front of dear Callidus, no less.  Your implications are creating a terrible impression of the honourable Filodoxos name.  I’ve tried and tried to instill a ladylike modesty and gentle manner in you, but yet, you continue to disobey me.  Don’t you know that I am just doing this for your sake?  Go to your room, Now!”

 

Caiside shrugged indifferently.  “Whatever, mum.  Talk to you later, Callidus.”

 

 “Oh.  Yes.  Later - er - Caiside,” Callidus replied awkwardly.  That had to be the first time that Caiside had given him any sort of friendly acknowledgement.  Caiside stood up, leaving her plate for the house-elf to clear away, and climbed up the stairs to her room.

 

 “Well!” Madam Filodoxos huffed.  “I apologize for her behaviour, Callidus.  Caiside has always been a spirited girl.  I believe she’s going through a phase.  You’ll have to excuse her immaturity.”

 

 “Indeed,” Callidus responded neutrally.  That was a safe thing to say, right?  How did he even end up in the middle of this family drama?  And did the Filodoxos have a problem with him being a half-blood, or not?

 

 “Besides,” Madam Filodoxos continued, “I know that it is hardly your fault that your blood status is - well - what it is.  I can tell that you are a young man with good values, and you are sure to make a great contribution to the wizarding world.  Especially with your talent in potions.”

 

Callidus breathed a small sigh of relief in the change of topic.  Potions.  That was safe and familiar.  He could handle a conversation about that.  Welcomed it, even.  By the time he had finished his breakfast, his mood was relatively relaxed.  Madam Filodoxos might be a bit uptight, and sometimes overbearing, but she was knowledgeable about potions, and out of all the Filodoxos, she was making the most effort to accept him.  This might not be the ideal situation, but in all honesty, it wasn’t too bad.  As long as he didn’t think too hard about the matter of blood status.  And besides, he’d be back at Hogwarts soon.

 

Madam Filodoxos soon departed for work, and Segnis had holed himself away in his music room to work on his new composition.  As Callidus climbed the stairs towards the guest room, he wondered what he would do with himself.  He had just finished the last of his summer homework yesterday.  Harry, Draco and Hermione had already written once, but none of them were doing anything particularly noteworthy.  Draco mostly bragged about the excessively expensive birthday presents he had belated received (his birthday had been in early June, near the exam period.)  Harry sounded thrilled to simply be permitted to be his own room, with no threat of chores, and all the time in the world to do his summer homework.  It was the first time Callidus had ever heard Harry sound happy about homework.  And as for Hermione, her letter had been about the homework itself, which, while intellectually interesting, didn’t quite qualify as exciting.  As Callidus turned the corner towards the corridor that led to his bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of Caiside, who was leaning against one of the walls with her arms crossed.

 

Caiside arched an eyebrow, one corner of her lip curled upwards in a crookedly mocking smile.  “Finally finished cozying up to my mother?”

 

 “If you’re attempting a gibe, I’d try one with a little less underlying insecurity,” Callidus drawled.

 

 “I’m not insecure!” Caiside retorted.  “It’s not like I’d want _more_ of my mum’s attention.”  She scrunched up her face at the thought.  “And there’s no way I’ll ever be her perfect little pureblood doll.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I can’t say that particularly pleased to be target of her fulsome mothering.  But I have a genuine interest in potions, and your mother has been telling me about some of her past projects.”

 

Caiside bit the inside of her cheek as she considered his words.  “Fair enough, I suppose.  Hey, do you feel like going out today?  You haven’t seen much of Wimbourne yet, have you?”

 

The invitation surprised Callidus.  Since when could Caiside be so - well - friendly?  A part of him wondered whether he should suspect some sort of trick.  “What’s there to see in Wimbourne?”

 

 “Honestly?  Not much.  The wizarding section of town is pretty small compared to, say Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.  And the muggle section isn’t much better either, but no one ever goes there - I don’t even own muggle clothes so I might look a bit funny to them.  But there’s a pastry shop that has the most amazing bread pudding.”

 

 “I can’t say that I’m particularly tempted by sweets.”

 

 “You could always come and - erm - watch me eat?” Caiside raised her eyebrows hopefully.

 

Callidus smirked.  “What a convincing argument.  I’ve always wanted to witness this mysterious act whereby nutritionally empty carbohydrates are being masticated.”

 

Caiside giggled, causing her curls to bounce.  “Come on, Callidus.  I’m sure we’ll find something that you like.”

 

With a shrug, Callidus decided to follow.  It wasn’t as though he had anything else to do anyway, and if Caiside had finally decided that she wanted to be nice, he wasn’t going to complain (though he might mock her for the infantile behaviour she had displayed the previous week.  It was only fair.)

 

It was a hot summer day, so Callidus and Caiside did not bother with coats, and once they had their shoes on, they were out the door.  Caiside was much more relaxed than Callidus had ever seen her, but Callidus kept his hands tucked in his pockets, his eyes squinting at the brightness of the sun.

 

 “When was the last time you ever saw the sun?” Caiside queried.  “Your complexion would make a ghost proud.”

 

 “You know, for someone who ignored me all last week, you’re awfully friendly now.”

 

Caiside looked somewhat sheepish.  She gave an embarrassed shrug.  “Well, we’re distant family.  So.  That makes us - what - erm - cousins?”

 

 “I commend your ability to make inane observations.  What a graceful way to cover up your discomfiture.  And since many purebloods are, as you say, inbred, being cousins means very little, doesn’t it?”

 

Caiside snorted.  “It’s more of a problem in the older families.  Though I’m sure that it’s something my parents aspire towards.”

 

 “What, being inbred?”

 

Caiside laughed bitterly.  “Well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to marry me off.  To - well.  You.”

 

Callidus blanched.  “What?  They - You?  No!  And besides, I’m not a pureblood!”

 

 “Yes, well, now you know how I feel.  No offence.  And I didn’t realize you were a half-blood until today.  I’m surprised my parents have been so welcoming so far.  But as I said, Prince is an old name.  I suppose the prestige matters more than blood purity.  Our family doesn’t have a seat on the Wizengamot, but I know the Prince’s do.  It hasn’t been used in ages of course.  Honestly, it’s kind of a surprise when you just showed up.  I think people thought the Prince line had died out, and yet, here you are.”

 

Callidus hummed thoughtfully.  Of all things, he wasn’t expecting this kind of revelation.  It made him wonder just how much the Filodoxos’ actually knew about him.  Callidus had been reticent when it came to his past.  But had Dumbledore revealed anything to the Filodoxos?  Such as his de-aging?

 

 “I’ve just made things awkward, haven’t I?”  Caiside smiled crookedly.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I’d say this is about as awkward as being subjected to silent and resentful glares for a week.”

 

Caiside flushed.  “I wasn’t giving you _resentful_ glares.”

 

 “Ha.  So you admit to glaring?”

 

 “Well - fine.  Yes.  I misjudged you.  I humbly beg your apology.  Satisfied?”

 

Callidus gave her a wicked smile.  “For now.”

 

 “What, do you plan to reduce me to some trembling, tearful pile of guilt and supplication?”

 

Callidus chuckled.  “Well, if Wimbourne is as uninteresting as you’ve implied, it might be my only source of entertainment for the rest of the month.”  To that, Caiside only rolled her eyes.

 

It was a twenty minute walk to reach the main street of Wimbourne, which consisted of mostly Tudor-style buildings.  There were several young families, and a few elderly couples out and about.  As Caiside mentioned, there was a pastry shop, but there was also a tailor, a pub, a post office, a general goods store, and an apothecary.  A few blocks over from the main street was the muggle portion of town.

 

 “I need to stop by the post office to place an order for Cobra Lily seeds,” Caiside informed him.

 

 “Isn’t your garden fatal enough?  Half the time, I’m afraid to even look out the window into your backyard.  I’m surprised that the neighbourhood animals are able to survive that death trap.”

 

Caiside shot him a mock-offended look.  “My garden is spectacular.  It may very well be the only garden in Britain that’s a hundred percent gnome-free.  And I’ll have you know that my mother once told me that tending to a garden is a perfectly ladylike past time.”

 

 “When was this?  Years ago?  I have a feeling she regrets those words.”

 

Caiside looked smug.  “Oh, she does,” she purred with intense satisfaction.  Callidus snorted with amusement.  After Caiside placed her order at the post office, they headed to the pastry shop, where Caiside purchased some bread pudding, and Callidus decided on a small fruit tart.  As they ate their treats at one of the small, outdoor tables, Caiside made snide comments about the passerby-ers.  Callidus decided he didn’t mind Caiside’s company.  She was kind of amusing.

 

Not wanting to return back to they house, they decided to near the border of the wizard-muggle portion of town.  Caiside was gleefully describing some of the more horrific toxins from the plants that she was cultivating in her garden, when a pair of muggle girls swerved around a corner, nearly bowling them over.  The girls were wide-eyed with confusion and fear, throwing scared looks over their shoulders.  They barely even bothered to apologize to Callidus and Caiside.

 

 “What was that?” Callidus looked towards the running girls, bemused.

 

Caiside’s expression darkened.  “Merlin,” she muttered.  “I hope it’s not what I think it is.”

 

 “What!” Callidus demanded, but Caiside was already stalking off.  She turned a corner and they came face to face with a group of three older boys.  Callidus recognized two of their faces as older student at Hogwarts, but he didn’t know their names.

 

 “Milgrim!” Caiside spat out.  “I should have known it was you.  You _know_ you’re not supposed to bait muggles.  It’s illegal!”

 

 “Hello to you too, Filodoxos,” replied the stockiest boy that she called Milgrim.  “What are you planning to do?  Report me to the aurors?  You can’t prove anything!  Besides, you read the papers don’t you?  Muggles are horrible.  They abuse us every chance they get, so why shouldn’t we get them back from time to time?”

 

 “What did you do to them?” Caiside hissed.

 

The stocky boy just smiled nastily.  “It was just a few stinging hexes.  They didn’t even see us.  What’s the big deal?  No one trusts muggles these days.” The other two boys made noises of assent.

 

 “It’s wrong!” Caiside exclaimed.  “They didn’t do anything to you.”

 

The boy raised his eyebrows.  “Careful, Filodoxos.  People might start thinking you're a blood traitor if you go around saying things like that.”

 

Caiside scowled. “Why should I care what a bunch of idiots think?”

 

The boy pulled out his wand, aiming it at Caiside.  “You've always been such a brat.  I bet that your mom would thank me if I taught you a little lesson.  Did you know that every time she visits my mum for tea, she complains about how hopeless you are?”

 

A dark look crossed Caiside's face, but she stood firm.  Callidus had no idea what he had just gotten himself caught up in, but he found himself reaching into his pocket and gripping his wand.  He really, really didn’t want to have to use it.  The last thing he needed was a letter from the Ministry of Magic about the use of Underaged Magic.  Something like this could potentially get him expelled.

 

 “Are you sure you want to do this, Milgrim?” Caiside taunted.  “Remember what happened last time?”

 

The stocky boy’s expression wavered.  His cheeks had become flushed, and his eyes promised revenge, but his wand hand had faltered.  “Hexing whiny little girls is stupid anyway,” he muttered, pocketing his wand.  “Let’s go.”  He and his friends turned to leave.

 

When they were gone, Caiside exhaled heavily.  “Merlin, I can’t stand him.”

 

 “What was that all about?”

 

Caiside gave Callidus a rueful smile.  “He’s some boy I’ve known since I was a kid.  As he said, our mums like to visit, so we used to have play dates.  We never got along though.  Anyway, this isn’t the first time I’ve caught him bullying others, but lately, he’s been doing more and more muggle baiting.  It - well, ever since that news story with Harry Potter, there’s been a lot more anti-muggle sentiments.  Most people are mature enough not to do things like Milgrim, but people have been talking, and stuff.”  Caiside shrugged and began to turn back toward the direction of her house, and Callidus walked alongside her.

 

 “What were you referring to when you mentioned a ‘last time?’  What happened?”

 

The question brought a self-satisfied smile onto Caiside’s face.  From her pocket, she pulled out a couple of oblong-shaped pods.

 

Callidus leaned towards her, examining the speckled green pods.  “What are those?”

 

 “They’re seed pods from one of my plants.  With a hard enough impact, the pod bursts open, and the seeds disperse.  What’s interesting with these seeds is that they will latch and wriggle themselves into a growing surface.  Whether that’s on the soil, on pavement or -” she grinned maliciously, “- on skin, the seed will still latch and insert.  It’s not lethal - but it’s wicked painful.  Makes a bloody mess.  I mean that literally.”

 

Callidus cringed at the thought.  “It’s like a - plant shrapnel bomb - or something.”

 

 “I don’t really know what a shrapnel bomb is,” Caiside admitted.  “A muggle thing?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “Can I see one of those?”

 

 “Sure.”  Caiside placed a pod in his palm.  “Just don’t squeeze it or anything.”

 

As they walked back to the Filodoxos house, Caiside spoke more about the rising anti-muggle attitudes.  It wasn’t the sort of thing that was written about in papers like the _Daily Prophet_ , so Callidus had been oblivious to the matter.

 

 “Is this just Wimbourne, or are other towns feeling the same way?  I imagine the negative perceptions must be fairly widespread, considering the _Daily Prophet’s_ readership.

 

Caiside shrugged.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.  I don’t hate muggles.”

 

 “Why?” Callidus wondered.  Caiside gave him an incredulous look.  “I mean, considering how your parents act, I’m just - I admit, surprised that you’re so open-minded towards muggles and blood status.”

 

Caiside snorted.  “My parents attitudes are exactly why I’m open-minded towards muggles and muggleborns.  The last thing I want to do is be like my parents.  Ugh.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrow.  “So this is all just an act of rebellion?  It has nothing to do with principles?”

 

 “I - erm -” Caiside looked a bit abashed.  “At first, it was all about being rebellious.  But - I - I don’t know.  I mean, no one here associates with the muggles.  And I don’t know any muggleborns.  But the thing is, I’ve met a lot of pure-bloods and half-bloods who aren’t the greatest people.  Milgrim, for one.  I guess I just figured that muggles and muggleborns can’t be worse, you know?”

 

 “Logical assumption.”

 

 “Does it bother you?” Caiside queried.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I’ve had bad experiences with muggles.  But as I said, some of the smartest people I’ve met are muggleborns.”

 

 “Hm.  Just so we’re - erm - clear - I wanted to say that your blood status doesn’t bother me.”

 

 “I gathered,” Callidus drawled.

 

Caiside gave him a weak smile.  “It’s just - well - I had fun today.  Aside from stupid Milgrim.  We should - I don’t know - do this again?”

 

Callidus raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, and Caiside began to squirm uncomfortably.  It was a little spiteful, but considering she had ignored him for a week, he thought she deserved a little punishment.  Finally, his lips quirked upwards in a smile.  “Sure.  There’s nothing better to do, anyway.”

 

Caiside huffed with relief, but broke into a wide grin.  “Well now that we’re - erm - hanging out - I gotta give you a tour of my garden.  Don’t worry, I won’t let you get hurt.  Much.”

  
 “Lucky me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Against all expectations, Callidus ended up spending most of the rest of his month with Caiside.  He wouldn’t go so far as to say that they were friends.  No, they were just two bored people who had gravitated together due to the bonding forces of mutual boredom, and an ability to tolerate each other’s presence.  Or something like that.  They didn’t always go out to explore town.  Sometimes, they just hung out in each other’s rooms, engaging in their contest of snideness-one-upmanship.  It was like a battle of wits.  Except instead of wits, it involved a lot of drawled words, and mockery.  

 

They also spent a great deal of time in Caiside’s garden.  Once Caiside had allowed Callidus to harvest parts of her plants (in a display of farcical and exaggerated generosity: “why yes, good sir, you may partake of the plucking of these gently quivering leaves”) Callidus found that he had developed a great appreciation of the garden, even if he was still convinced that it was out to kill him.  But he was willing to take a bit of a risk for quality potions ingredients.

 

Madam Filodoxos seemed inordinately pleased by this development.  She treated Callidus in the same, overbearing manner as ever, but her criticism towards her daughter had decreased.  For the most part, Caiside just tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening.  Neither Callidus nor Caiside wanted to imagine the matchmaking that might be going on in Madam Filodoxos’ mind.  That would have been a bit too unsettling.  It didn’t help that Segnis was going around the house, singing some sort of love ballad that he happened to be composing, while a piece of parchment and quill followed him around, scribbling out musical notation.

 

One day in late July, Madam Filodoxos knocked on Callidus’s open door, wearing a hesitant expression on her face.  The expression immediately put Callidus on guard.  Madam Filodoxos was the sort of woman who personified the phrase ‘no-nonsense.’  She was about as subtle as a using a hatchet as a paper cutter.  Callidus didn’t even realize that hesitance was a part of Madam Filodoxo’s emotional repertoire.  Thus, the look on her face understandably had him on edge.  Even Caiside, who had been lounging in his desk chair, gave him a concerned look.

 

 “Callidus, dear,” Madam Filodoxos began, sounding unusually uncertain.  “May I have a word with you?”  Callidus and Caiside shared a worried look that silently said ‘Please, Merlin, don’t let this conversation have anything to do with betrothals.’

 

 “All right,” Callidus agreed reluctantly, trying not to look as though he were dragging his feet.  After all, the Filodoxos’ had been very generous by allowing him into their home.  He followed Madam Filodoxos down the corridor and into the study, sitting down in a chair across from her.  It took a great deal of effort to keep his expression blank.  The portrait hanging on the study wall smiled down on him indulgently, and murmured something about how he was of ‘good stock.’  He tried to do his best to ignore the decorative ceramic shepherdess on the desk that kept blowing kisses in his direction.  And why was the shepherdess trying to adjust the collar of her blouse lower?  He couldn’t understand how anyone would want such unnerving little figurines in their house.

 

 “Callidus,” Madam Filodoxos began.  “How much do you know about your family history?  About the Princes?”

 

Callidus blinked.  This line of conversation was not making him feel optimistic.  He desperately hoped that Madam Filodoxos wouldn’t start talking about anything as horrifying as continuing family bloodlines.  “I know a bit,” Callidus admitted.  “I know that most of the Prince family have been Slytherins.  I know that the family can be traced back to the 1500s.  I know that the Prince’s have traditionally been a Dark aligned family.”

 

 “You know about all that?” Madam Filodoxos suddenly looked relieved, but managed to maintain her stern composure.  “What are your thoughts on the Dark Arts?”

 

 “I -” Callidus wondered how he should answer.  Dark or Light magic could be such a sensitive topic.  “I am open to learning all forms of magic.  To me, it’s knowledge, and the power that it affords that’s important.”

 

Madam Filodoxos’ expression was appraising.  “Yes, it’s wise if you to be open to all forms of knowledge.  You have a lot of sense for one so young.  You’re a good influence on my daughter.”  Callidus forced himself to stay still and not squirm awkwardly in the face of the praise.  The portrait on the wall declared: ‘here, here!’

 

 “I know that Hogwart’s current headmaster has a strong bias against the Dark Arts.  Witches and Wizards have not been able to freely practice the Dark Arts for centuries in Britain.  So I understand that access to such knowledge can be exceedingly difficult.”

 

 “Yes,” Callidus agreed, wondering where Madam Filodoxos was going.

 

 “There’s something I want to give to you, but you must keep it secret.  You may show Caiside, of course.  But you mustn’t show it to any others.”  Madam Filodoxos picked up a book that had been sitting at the desk and handed it to him.  Callidus peered down at the title.  It was a spell book - one on Old Magics, and most of them Dark.  Curiously, none of the spells were offencive spells.

 

 “This is for me?”

 

Madam Filodoxos nodded.  “Yes.  The book is a copy.  I believe it would benefit you to learn some of these spells.”

 

Something about this situation seemed strange to Callidus, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  “Thank you.  I appreciate it very much,” he answered politely.

 

Madam Filodoxos smiled warmly.  “You’re such an upstanding young man.  You do the Prince name proud.”

 

 “Thank you,” Callidus repeated, pasting a rather wooden smile on his face.

 

 “There’s something else I wanted to show you.  It is, however, a secret, and before I do, I must have you swear an unbreakable vow not to reveal it.  You know what an unbreakable vow is, do you not?”

 

Callidus felt a chill ripple down his spine.  “Yes, breaking an unbreakable vow results in death.”

 

 “You do not have to agree to this, of course.  If you’re not comfortable with learning the secret, I will not make you swear the vow, and we can forget this part of the conversation.  I understand that it can be a heavy burden to bear.  But you are very mature for your age.”

 

Callidus felt conflicted.  He was filled with a burning curiosity to know this secret.  However, he was unsure if he wanted to have to swear an unbreakable vow.  A look of amusement flickered in Madam Filodoxos’ eyes before it quickly vanished, but that was what decided the issue for Callidus.  It couldn’t be that bad, if Madam Filodoxos was amused about it, right?

 

 “All right.  I’ll make the vow.”  Callidus could hear the portrait exclaim: ‘Good lad!’

 

Madam Filodoxos smiled, lines crinkling across her broad face, and she pulled out her wand, gesturing for Callidus to do the same.  As she said the words of the vow, Callidus was curious to note that not only did he have to keep the secret from outsiders of the Filodoxos family, but he also had to keep the  _ location _ of the secret a secret.  Was the secret some sort of place?  As the final streams of fiery light wove around their hands, Madam Filodoxos gave him an approving smile and stood up.

 

 “Come with me.”  She led him down the stairs, and into one of the corridors.  At a blank stretch of wall, she paused.  Using her wand, she tapped the wood panelling and said a word that Callidus did not recognize.  Nothing appeared to happen.

 

 “This way,” Madam Filodoxos intoned.  She walked forward, passing through the solid looking wall, and Callidus blinked in surprise.  He supposed it shouldn’t be  _ that _ shocking.  It was very similar to the barrier at King’s Cross Station.  Trusting Madam Filodoxos, he stepped towards the wall, and almost fell down the other side.  It was only because he had luckily managed to cling onto the bannister that he didn’t tumble headlong down the stairs.

 

 “Oh!  I apologize, Callidus!” Madam Filodoxos exclaimed, looking worried.  “I should have mentioned that there would be stairs here.  Are you quite all right?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “I - yes, I’m fine.  What is this place?”

 

The question brought a satisfied smile to Madam Filodoxos face.  “Come down and see.”

 

As the pair of them walked down the steps, Callidus gasped to see an immense potions lab.  One wall was nothing but shelving, displaying rows and rows of potions ingredients - more than he had ever seen in any private lab - even his adult-self’s lab in Hogwarts.

 

 “This is incredible!” Callidus could barely keep his jaw shut.  “I’ve never seen such an impressive lab.”

 

Madam Filodoxos looked pleased.  “It’s all thanks to my employer.  I still can’t reveal who that is, of course.  But they supply all the tools and ingredients.  I do not use this lab too often, since the labs at the head office are even better.  As a budding potions disciple, I thought you would appreciate it.  Since you’ve been here, I’ve been starting to think of you as the son I never had.  Feel free to make use of the lab and the ingredients while you are living here - though I must request that you ask permission if you need ingredients from any of the gold-labelled jars.  Those ingredients are the rarest of all and my employer won’t replace those without a great deal of questions.”

 

Callidus felt both embarrassed, awkward, but also pleased.  He didn’t exactly feel the need for a new mother figure - his own mother Eileen might not have been perfect, but she had still cared about him.  Nonetheless, having access to a lab like this was like receiving his birthdays presents, Christmas presents, and a top-student award from Hogwarts all at once.

 

 “Thank you.”  Callidus didn’t think the words sounded adequate, but he did not know what else to say.  “This is truly amazing.”

 

 “You’re family,” Madam Filodoxos replied.  “I want you to feel welcome and happy here.”  This only served to increase Callidus’s embarrassment, so he just nodded, his cheeks flushed.  

 

In the following days, Callidus spent most of his time in the private lab.  He was so pleased to have access to such an incredible lab that he quickly forgot about Madam Filodoxos’ odd behaviour when she gave him the Old Magics book.  Caiside, who was aware of the lab and could come and go as she pleased, sometimes deigned to spend the day down there with him, bringing a book to entertain herself.  But more often than not, she prefered the openness of her aggressive and dangerous garden.

 

Having access to the lab provided Callidus the chance to finally create something for Harry’s birthday, which was at the end of the month.  Knowing how much Harry had appreciated the Camouflage Potion, he had brewed a fresh batch.  On top of that, he also brewed another potion which, when applied to the bottom of one’s feet or shoes, could silence the sound of one’s footsteps.  It was the perfect gift for the budding prankster.

 

Callidus also decided he would brew a potion for Caiside.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt compelled to do it.  Perhaps it was a way of saying: ‘Thanks for being my boredom buddy’ (without having to actually vocalize such horrifyingly saccharine words.)

 

The end of July arrived quickly.  Callidus was set to depart on the 31st, the exact day of Harry’s birthday, and he would be meeting his friends at Malfoy manor.  While the plan had been to stay at the Filodoxos for a month, and then Hogwarts for the rest of the summer, Harry, Draco and Callidus had, at some point, come to the agreement that the would all spend a week at Malfoy manor together.

 

When Madam Filodoxos found out where Callidus would be going, she almost had a fit of the vapours.  “Oh gracious!  Oh Callidus, why didn’t you tell me, my dear?  The Malfoys?  You’re friends with the Malfoys?  Oh gracious!  Such an upstanding family!  A paragon a pureblood values!”

 

Caiside looked like she was going to roll her eyes right out of her head.

 

Standing before the fireplace, with his bags packed (since Callidus was going to floo to Malfoy manor,) Callidus stood before his foster family, wondering how to make his exit with the least possible awkwardness.  The way Madam Filodoxos was saying: ‘Oh gracious!’ had probably ruined his chance for a graceful exit.

 

 “It was nice to - er - know you,” Callidus muttered to Caiside.

 

Caiside smirked.  “It was nice to know you too.  Maybe we’ll see each other at Hogwarts.”

 

 “Yeah.  Maybe.”  Callidus internally cringed.  This exit was already hopelessly uncomfortable.

 

 “Here, I made this for you.”  Callidus thrust out his hand, handing Caiside a potion phial.

 

She looked at the phial, bemused.  “What is it?”

 

 “It’s a potion that will allow you to graft almost any two or more plants together.  Not that I think it’s a good idea to increase the deadliness of your garden but -” Callidus shrugged, mildly embarrassed.

 

Caiside looked at the phial with newfound appreciation.  “Really?  Wow.  Thank you, Callidus!  For such a morose, sun-phobic wizard, you’re all right.”

 

Callidus felt the corners of his lips quirking upwards.  “Yeah, well for an infantile, eye-rolling, gardener of torture and death, you’re all right yourself.”

 

 “Hey!” Caiside added brightly.  “I have something for you as well.”

 

Callidus raised his black eyebrows.  “Oh?”

 

Caiside grinned mischievously.  She handed him a bag.  When he pulled open the ties to look inside, he saw a bunch of oblong pods.  They were the seed pods that he had described as being ‘plant shrapnel bombs.’  A wide grin broke across Callidus’s face.

 

 “Thanks!” he exclaimed.  He knew it was unlikely that he’d ever need to use the seed pods.  On the other hand, one could never be too sure.  It was a pretty good idea to be able to defend oneself without the use of a wand.

 

By the time Callidus had thanked the elder Filodoxos’ for their hospitality, their eyes were misty.  Even Segnis, who was usually in his own world of music looked a bit sad.

 

 “I should write a song to capture this,” Segnis mused.  “The soulful ache of goodbye.  I don’t usually like sad songs, but this - ah, this is a lovely sort of bittersweetness, isn’t it?  The parting of loved ones”

 

Callidus shifted uneasily  Loved ones?  What in the world was Segnis going on about?  He didn’t even think he had a real conversation with Segnis this entire month.  “Indeed.”

 

 “Please don’t hesitate to floo or owl us if ever you need anything,” Madam Filodoxos insisted.  

 

 “All right.  Thank you again.”  He gave the Filodoxos a crooked smile.  Picking up a handful of floo powder, he threw it in the fireplace and when the flames burst into vivid green, he called out: “Malfoy manor!”


	3. Chapter 3

Callidus wasn’t entirely sure of what he was expecting when he arrived at Malfoy manor.  He knew that today was Harry’s birthday, and at some point, Draco had mentioned throwing some sort of party in one of their letters through owl post, but unfortunately, Draco’s letter had been scant in details.  Well, scant in details concerning the party.  Draco always had plenty to say about himself.

 

Callidus stumbled out of the fireplace into one of the Malfoy’s lavish drawing rooms.  His head was still spinning from the discomfort of floo travel, but he managed to only stumble a bit, rather than windmilling and falling flat on his face.

 

 “Cal!” Harry greeted cheerfully.  “You’re finally here!”

 

 “Callidus.” Draco nodded his head, in what could only be described as a pompous manner.

 

 “Happy birthday Harry,” Callidus said, grinning widely at his friend and blood-brother.  Harry beamed in reply.  A familiar house-elf, Dobby, popped in front of him to take Callidus’s trunk.

 

 “Thank you Dobby.”  If Callidus had known what the effects of his words would be, he might have chosen to be more curt.

 

Dobby’s already enormous eyes widened further.  “Master Callidus remembers Dobby’s name!  Master Callidus is too good!  Too kind!  Just like Master Harry!  Oh, Dobby is so happy!  So honoured to have such good and great masters!”

 

 “Ah - well - yes.  You’re - welcome?”

 

 “You don’t have to - ugh!  Just dismiss him next time!” Draco was looking at Dobby with embarrassment, his voice sounding pained.  “Dobby, go!”  With that, the house-elf vanished with yet another pop, taking Callidus’s trunk with him.

 

 “He’s not that bad,” Harry defended.  “I think Dobby is kind of - erm - cute?”

 

Draco gave Harry an incredulous look.  “Harry.  Baby crups and kneazles are cute.  Puffskeins are cute.  Even Hagrid’s dragon Norberta is kind of cute.  Have you ever taken a close look at a house elf?  They’re grey and knobby and spindly.  They look like emaciated gargoyles!”

 

 “Okay, maybe not cute.  But - well - likeable.  Kind of.”

 

Callidus snorted and shook his head.  He might not have seen his friends for a month, and yet it felt like he had never been away.  He decided to cut in before Draco and Harry started squabbling.  “What do you have planned for your birthday, Harry?”

 

 “Oh!  Well, I didn’t really think about making any plans.  I thought the three of us would just -” Harry shrugged, “- find something fun to do around the manor.  Fly around for a bit, or something.  But then Draco thought we should celebrate, so he invited a few people.  They should be arriving soon so we’re waiting here to greet them.”

 

 “Oh?  Who’s coming?”

 

Harry hummed, shuffling his feet self-consciously. “Well, Pansy, and Blaise.  And Hermione.  And Tracey, and Millie and Daphne.  And Theo too.  And Crabbe and Goyle?  Erm - and a bunch of other people I don’t know.  It’s supposed to be a casual get together.”

 

 “It  _ is _ casual!” Draco insisted.  “We didn’t even send out proper invites.”  Draco looked very put out by this fact.  “The whole thing is a mess.  People might be arriving at all hours of the day.  I told them to come by at noon, but who knows if they’ve listened.  This is why proper invitations should be sent out before any sort of fete.”

 

Harry huffed.  “I didn’t  _ ask _ for this.  I’ve never even had a birthday party before!”

 

 “Yes, and you’re unlikely to have any sort of proper party until next year, when we can actually properly organize it.  What kind of theme do you suppose you’d like?”

 

 “What?  Are we talking about for today or for next year?”

 

 “Wait - how many people are coming?” Callidus questioned.  The idea of suddenly seeing everyone at once struck him as being rather overwhelming.

 

 “I -” Draco scrunched up his face as he mentally tried to count.  “I don’t remember.  I invited the Slytherins, and Harry wanted Hermione to come.  And then my mother thought that Crabbe and Goyle should come since we used to play together when we younger.  And my father thought that it would be a good chance for Harry to cultivate more connections with other - uh - young-ish people.”

 

 “So -” Callidus knit his brows together.  “We might literally be stuck in this drawing room, greeting people all day?”

 

Draco frowned.  “No - yes - maybe?”

 

 “Can’t a house-elf do that?” Callidus questioned.

 

 “It’s appalling manners for a host to not personally greet their guests!” Draco exclaimed, aghast at the idea.

 

Callidus’s eyes slid over to Harry, who was already fidgeting restlessly.  “Harry, shall we go explore the manor?  I know there’s a secret room in the library, but I imagine there are many other secrets that we might find.”

 

Draco gasped.  “You know about the private library?”

 

Callidus ignored Draco and raised his eyebrow at Harry expectantly.  Harry gave Draco a mischievous look before shrugging and grinning.  “Sure.  Let’s get out of here.”

 

 “You are  _ Not _ abandoning me alone to greet the guests!” Draco exclaimed, sounding almost shrill.

 

 “You could - I dunno - come with us?” Harry suggested with amusement.

 

Draco huffed.  “Fine!  Gilly!”  A house-elf popped into place, wearing an expression that was both eager and sweet.

 

 “How can Gilly serve Master Draco?”

 

 “Gilly, stay here and greet the guests as they arrive.  Direct them to the pavilion in the west garden.  There’s tables and refreshments set up out there.”

 

Gilly smiled cheerfully.  “Yes, Master Draco.”

 

With only the slightest look of guilt, Draco joined Callidus and Harry as the boys quickly left the drawing room, eager to catch up on what had happened in the past month.

 

By the time the trio made it down to Harry’s ‘birthday party,’ it was over an hour later.  Draco had insisted that Callidus ‘do something’ with his hair, and with a heavy sigh, Callidus submitted to using a fresh dose of Grease-B-Gone potion in his shoulder-length locks. 

 

 “I’m not expecting that you’ll ever look as good as me,” Draco was prattling snobbily.  “But Merlin!  You can’t go out in front of our guests looking like that, Callidus!  It would reflect badly on us.”

 

 “Yes, sister dear,” Callidus deadpanned.  “Merlin knows I’ll never catch a proper husband looking the way I do, unlike you, the belle of the ball.”

 

Draco scowled, while Harry chuckled and threw his head back on the sofa where he was sprawled out.  “I’ve missed this.”

 

 “What.  Us devolving into a state where we’re reduced to puerile bickering?” Callidus asked.

 

Harry smiled happily.  “Yes.  Feels like -” He stared up at the ceiling as he searched for the right word.  “Home.”

 

When the trio arrived at the west garden, with Callidus and even Harry looking considerable more polished, most of the guests had arrived.  For a supposedly casual party, in which invites were not even formally issued, the west garden looked lavishly decorated.  There were several tables containing numerous delectable looking finger foods.  The nearby trees were adorned with flittering and glowing fairies.  Round tables, with matched chairs were evenly scattered throughout one section the garden, and a short distance away, a few people were playing magical lawn games.

 

A shriek pierced the air, and a blur of dark brown hair and pale limbs came flying towards the trio.  “Harrryyy!!  Drakkyyyy!!  Caaal!!”  Pansy Parkinson leapt at them, somehow throwing her arms around the three of them at once.  “I can’t believe you weren’t there when we flooed in!”  She was followed closely by Blaise Zabini who sauntered up to them, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

 

 “Merlin, Pansy!” Draco exclaimed, trying to push her off.  “How do you manage to become more unsophisticated every time we meet?”

 

 “You’re one to talk!” Parkinson retorted.  “I’m not the one who left a house-elf to greet personal guests.”

 

 “That - I - that wasn’t my fault, you cow!” Draco sputtered.

 

Harry grinned.  “You’re just mad that she called you Draky.  Hullo Pansy.  I’ve missed you too.” He winced, but smiled with affection and resignation as Pansy squeezed him in a tight hug.

 

 “Happy Birthday, Harry,” Zabini said smoothly.  “Hello Draco.  Lovely party you have here.  How has your summer been?”

 

 “Listen, I hardly had time to plan this party,” Draco continued to rant.  “Do you realize how many weeks in advance are needed to coordinate an adequate get-together?  There’s the food, the invites, the decor, the music, the -”

 

Zabini raised up his hands defensively.  “I didn’t mean to throw your delicate sensibilities into a fit of hysterics.  I was being perfectly sincere.  It is a nice party.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Only you could say that with a straight face, Zabini.  I’m pretty sure I just saw you eyeing the generic decorations with disdain.”

 

 “Me?  As if I would ever be so crass as to look down on someone for their very generic choice of decor,” Zabini intoned though Callidus caught the glint of amusement in his eyes.

 

As Harry and Draco chatted with the Slytherins, Callidus caught sight of Hermione.  The muggleborn was looking decidedly lost and uncomfortable amidst the crowd of mostly purebloods.  Excusing himself, Callidus strode over to Hermione.  When she spotted him, she gave him a relieved smile, glad to see a friendly face.

 

 “Hermione,” he welcomed. “Are you enjoying watching the indigenous purebloods socializing in the wild?”

 

 “Hello Callidus.  Everyone’s behaviour is quite interesting,” Hermione replied in such a way that Callidus wasn't sure if she was playing along, or actually being serious.  “I can’t help but think that their life’s purpose is to one-up whomever they are speaking with.”

 

 “That’s because I’m pretty sure their life’s purpose actually  _ is _ to one-up whomever they are speaking with,” he answered wryly.  “That or to bow down and ingratiate themselves like suckling bottom feeders, hungry for the meanest of scraps.”

 

Hermione scrunched her nose.  “How can you stand this sort of thing?  It’s all so - pretentious.”

 

Callidus gave his friend a look of concern.  “Have the people here been making you feel unwelcome?”  As the only muggleborn, Hermione’s presence was an oddity.  There were many pureblood who would have easily treated her with open derision. 

 

 “No, it’s been all right,” she replied, though her tone sounded uncertain.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “The people here are no better than you.  I think much of the pompousness has to do with how much gold they have in their vaults as it has to do with blood status.”

 

Hermione gave him a bemused look.  “It doesn’t bother you?”

 

Callidus shrugged, but some silent voice in his head was sure that once he made his way in the world, people would be looking up to  _ him _ and admiring  _ him _ .  He was ambitious, and he was a Slytherin after all.

 

 “I should say Happy Birthday to Harry, shouldn’t I,” Hermione mused.

 

Callidus glanced over to where Harry and Draco were situated.  The two of them were now swarmed by the other guests - many of them admirers of either Harry or the Malfoys.  Callidus could already imagine how uncomfortable Harry probably was, being fawned over by people he barely knew.  A scowl crossed his face, as Callidus’s protective feelings towards his friend and brother arose.  Why wasn’t Draco keeping the sycophants away from Harry?  Wasn’t that one of Draco’s jobs as a so-called ‘spokesperson’ for the trio?

 

Callidus stalked over to Harry and Draco, trailed by Hermione.  He pushed passed the crowd, and just as he thought, Harry was looking overwhelmed, while Draco was happily soaking up the attention.

 

 “Draco,” Callidus drawled to his other blood-brother.  “You can take care of all this, can’t you?” He gestured to the crowd, but Draco’s expression was perplexed.  It wasn’t until Callidus place a hand on Harry’s shoulder that Draco understood.  Draco opened his mouth to protest, not wanting to be abandoned by Harry (even if Draco  _ adored _ getting fawned over), but when Draco saw the strained expression on Harry’s face, he relented with a huff.

 

 “Fine,” Draco hissed so that only Callidus could hear.  “But you owe me.”  Callidus rolled his eyes.  How did it make sense for him to owe Draco, when he was just letting Draco do something he already enjoyed?  

 

Callidus excused himself from the crowd, pulling Harry along with him.  They made their way towards the relative privacy of the Malfoy’s hedge maze.  As they strolled through the winding pathway, Callidus listened as Harry and Hermione caught up, and eventually, they were joined by a rather irate-looking Draco.

 

 “How could you just leave me back there!” Draco exclaimed.  “Do you know how much work it is to handle all those people and their unceasing questions?”  His tone of voice changed as he mimicked the crowd.  “‘ _ Where’s Harry Potter?’ ‘What’s the guest of honour doing?’ ‘Where’s the great Boy-Who-Lived?’ _ _ ‘Such a lovely party you have here, but why didn’t you issue written invites?’ _ ” 

 

Callidus snorted.  “And yet, you handle the masses so well, Draco.  Besides, most of them were probably all too happy to slather you with a heavy layer of flattery.  You live for that kind of thing.  You don’t need to me to say that invites or not, they’re probably besides themselves with ecstatic glee to be here at this little Malfoy revel.” 

 

 “Naturally they should be honoured.  But that doesn't mean I wanted to be left to the slavering wolves.”

 

 “Aw,” Harry cut in, his green eyes bright with amusement.  “Are you sad that we left you by yourself?”

 

Draco pouted and crossed his arms.  “No.”

 

Callidus snorted again.

 

Draco threw his hands up in exasperation.  “Fine then, yes!  Are you satisfied?  Just forget about it.  Harry, don’t you want to open your presents?  What’s the point of inviting so many people if you don’t even go out and claim your spoils?”

 

Harry huffed.  “I didn’t choose to invite  _ all _ these people.  And I don’t care _ that _ much about presents.”

 

Callidus cursed under his breath.  “I forgot your present in my trunk.  I’ll give it to you tonight, after everyone’s gone.”

 

 “Just wait until you see what  _ I _ got you,” Draco preemptively bragged.  “You won’t be able to guess what it is.  I doubt anyone else got you anything like it.  It’s so great, I almost wish I had one just like it.”

 

 “Erm - thanks?” Harry responded.

 

 “It’s going to make everyone else’s present look _ so _ bad,” Draco continued eagerly.  “I can’t wait to see your face when you get it.  It’s one-of-a-kind.  It’s not the biggest or flashiest item, but it’s probably the rarest and most expensive.  Everyone’s going to be  _ so _ envious.”

 

While Draco prattled, Hermione shyly smiled and said:  “I hope you’ll enjoy my present, Harry.”

 

Harry smiled reassuringly.  “I’m sure I will.”

 

Draco managed to drag the group of them out of the hedge maze towards the large table where Harry’s gifts were piled up.  When Harry saw the mound, his eyes bulged and his mouth fell open.

 

 “These are all for me?”

 

Draco examined the mound with a critical expression.  “Not bad, but you can probably do better next year.  Especially if we plan a  _ proper  _ party.”

 

Most of the guests had noticed Harry’s reemergence, and they formed a circle around him, watching with interest as Harry made his way towards the presents.  Even the elder Malfoys were there, wearing expensive looking robes, and playing the gracious hosts (since Draco wasn’t doing a sufficient job.)

 

Aware of the growing crowd, Harry flushed and hesitated, acting embarrassed and almost guilty as though he were some unwelcome vagrant, caught with his hands reaching for expensive family heirlooms.  For a moment, Harry felt as though he did not belong in a place like this.  But Draco, who looked ready to rip open the presents himself, was already handing Harry one of the gifts, eyeing it with anticipation.

 

 “Open it!” Draco exclaimed, all but bouncing up and down with excitement.  Amused by his friend and blood-brother’s antics, Harry felt himself relaxing the slightest bit.  If this party was all for him, he might as well enjoy it.  His green eyes now alight with curiosity, he ripped open the wrapping paper, eager to see what manner of knickknacks he might be receiving.

 

Callidus watched as Harry made his way through the mountain of presents, awkwardly thanking people he barely knew, or in some cases, had never even met.  Draco was still handing Harry presents, watching the proceedings with a mix of interest, and growing smugness.  Callidus had the impression that Draco was saving his present for last, like some sort of dramatic grand finale.

 

Finally, it was the last present of the pile.  The gift was elegantly wrapped, and the wrapping paper glinted gold with snitches, bludgers and for some reason quaffles, whizzing around (even if quaffles did not fly).  Harry admired the beautiful wrapping paper, wondering if the fluttering snitches were real gold (they were.)

 

 “This is yours?” Harry asked.

 

Draco smirked.  “Of course.”

 

Though Harry was growing exhausted from opening so many gifts, he perked up with interest.  Even Callidus, who had no desire to feed Draco’s ego, found himself edging forwards, curious to see what the other boy had gifted to Harry.  Unlike the other gifts, Harry was a bit more careful about opening this one, as though he did not want to tear the paper.  Beneath the wrapping paper was an ornate miniature chest.  Harry lifted the lid of the chest, and pulled out a pendant, which glowed in a greenish light, before fading.  Harry held the pendant in front of him, admiring the item which dangled from a black-ish red cord.

 

 “It’s a dragon tooth,” Draco informed him.  “I had my father have one of his acquaintances enchant it.  It has a few magical properties, but the main one is that it can protect you from danger.  It has some shield-like abilities, among other things.”

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  Draco wasn’t jesting when he said the gift was one-of-a-kind.  Enchanting was a highly advanced and difficult form of magic that wasn’t even taught at Hogwarts.  It was an ability that few could master, and involved intricate spell-work to weave permanent and powerful magic into objects.  Almost all magical artifacts - the rare and expensive ones at least - were created through enchantments.  Most witches and wizards never bothered to learn enchanting and were satisfied to simply stick to charming objects, which, while effective, was also temporary.

 

 “Wow!” Harry exclaimed.  “Thanks, Draco!  It’s awesome!”

 

 “The cord is made from woven dragon heartstrings,” Draco added smugly, as Harry pulled the necklace over his head.  As the pendant fell to a rest against the center of Harry’s chest, Harry suddenly froze.  His pupils constricted to pin-pricks, making his eyes look eerily green.  The colour seemed to leach from his face.  Harry swayed in place.

 

 “Harry?” Callidus dashed over to his friend, concerned, and gripping his shoulders.  Something told him to make use of his magical sensitivity, and with push of concentration, he focused on his friend.  He nearly leapt away from the ominous feeling that roiled under his skin, surrounding Harry.  It seemed to wave and crest, feeling oddly cold, and incredibly hostile.  Was it the pendent?

 

Callidus reached for the dragon tooth, but before he could touch it, a feeling of intense revulsion swept through him and he recoiled, unable to bring himself to touch the necklace.  Even now, the idea of being near it filled him with a strange sense of inexplicable horror.

 

 “What is this?” Callidus hissed.  “Draco, what did you do?”  

 

Draco, Hermione and many of the other Slytherins watched the scene with confusion and concern.  The guests had no idea what was going on.  All Harry was really doing was standing there, and it seemed like Callidus was the only one who was aware of how  _ wrong _ everything felt.

 

 “Why can’t I touch the pendant?” Callidus demanded, keeping his voice low, but his eyes hard.

 

Draco was taken aback by the intense look on Callidus’s face.  “I - it’s enchanted so that only Harry can touch or remove it.  What’s the point of a protective artifact if just anyone can snatch it?”

 

Callidus turned back to Harry.  “Harry?  Harry!  Take off the pendant.”

 

 “Hey!  Why should he have to take off the pendant?” Draco demanded, but Callidus ignored him.

 

Harry blinked, and his pupils soon returned to their normal size.  The roiling, wavy feeling beneath Callidus’s skin lessened, but still remained.

 

 “Huh?  Why are you -”  Harry looked at Callidus in confusion, wondering why the other boy’s hands were on his shoulders.  “Did something happen?”

 

 “Harry,” Callidus repeated.  “Can you take the pendant off?”

 

Harry’s hand reached up to wrap around the dragon tooth.  Part of its enchantments meant that the blade-like edge of the tooth couldn’t penetrate Harry’s skin, so the the item did him no harm.  But instead of pulling the necklace off, Harry simply held it against his chest.

 

 “Why?” Harry wondered, with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

 

 “Just - please,” Callidus pleaded.  “I have a weird feeling about it.”

 

 “I - erm - maybe later, yeah?”  Harry looked at the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces.  “Not here when we’re surrounded by all these people.”

 

Callidus frowned, but he had no inclination to make a scene.  “Fine.”

 

 “What’s going on?” Draco asked, grey eyes flashing with annoyance.  “Why are you being so weird, Callidus?  What’s your problem?  Jealous that my gift is so much better than yours?”

 

Callidus wanted to throw his hands up, or roll his eyes, or huff dramatically, but knowing that there were so many pairs of eyes on him, he maintained his stoic demeanour.  “We’ll discuss this later.”


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, when all the guests had finally left, the trio gathered in the guest room that Callidus and Harry shared.  They were sitting cross-legged on the excessively enormous four-poster bed, and Callidus had finally given Harry his present, which Harry had been immensely pleased with.  Already, Harry seemed to be imagining the hijinks he could get up to, with both the Camouflage Potion and the Foot-silencing Potion.

 

 “So,” Callidus began, looking down at Harry’s chest, “will you remove the pendant now?”

 

 “I -” Harry placed a hand over the pendant.  “Why do you want me to remove it so much anyway?  It’s really cool.  I don’t see why I should take it off.”

 

Draco shot Callidus the most unbearably self-satisfied smile imaginable, and Callidus scowled.

 

Trying to ignore Draco, Callidus pinned his black eyes on Harry.  “Listen. Earlier today, when you put the pendant on, you were acting strange.  Everyone else was likely too far away to notice, but your pupils became constricted, and you looked extremely pallid.  I sensed a really strange sort of magic from you that I can only describe as being cold, and disturbing.  I’m concerned.”

 

Harry’s brows drew together and he pursed his lips.  But before he could speak, Draco cut in.  “That was probably just the feeling of the defensive magic.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “I wasn’t trying to hurt Harry.  Why would the enchantment get worked up about me?  Unless it’s faulty.”

 

 “It’s not faulty!” Draco asserted.  “I would never give something to Harry if it were faulty.”

 

 “I feel fine,” Harry pointed out.  “I don’t even remember feeling weird earlier.”

 

 “Exactly what sort of enchantments have been put on that pendent anyway?” Callidus grilled Draco.

 

Draco crossed his arms, looking both defensive and irritated.  “Only good enchantments.  There’s the main one which protects Harry from most magical attacks - I mean, it won’t make him invincible or anything, and I’m not sure if it can withstand a prolonged assault, but it means that he’ll be guarded from most magical surprise attacks.  And there’s the one that allow only Harry to touch or remove the pendent.  And there’s a minor enchantment that provides some protection against fire.  And one that helps him to sense the direction that danger might be coming from, but to be honest, those types of enchantments can be a bit finicky.  There’s one that can help keep his reflexes sharp - not that Harry needs to improve his reflexes, but it seemed like a nice bonus.  And I think that’s it.”

 

 “Wow.”  Harry looked down at the dragon tooth, his eyes bright.  “It can do all that?”

 

Draco smiled smugly.  But before he could reply, Callidus spoke.  “Be that as it may, I still think you should remove it.  Even just for a moment.  I know this sounds like an odd request, and I can’t articulate why it seems important -”

 

Harry huffed.  “Fine.”  He wrapped his hands around the dragon heartstring cord, and lifted the necklace over his head, dangling it mockingly in front of Callidus’s face for all but two seconds before throwing it back on.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “Satisfied?”

 

Callidus’s mouth twisted downwards.  No, he wasn’t satisfied at all.  Why had Harry gotten so attached to the necklace so quickly?  Harry didn’t seem like a materialistic sort of person and rarely gave a second thought about any of his things.  But there was nothing more that Callidus could say without looking overly paranoid and perhaps even jealous, if Draco’s amused expression was anything to go by.

 

With a sigh, Callidus forced himself to let the matter go, and turned to Draco.  “Who created the enchantments anyway?”

 

 “An old associate of my father’s.  Malfoys are extremely well connected.” 

 

 “You were the one who dealt with him?  Or your father?” Callidus continued to question.

 

Draco narrowed his eyes.  “What’s with these questions?  Just admit that I gave him the better present, and get over it!”

 

 “I like both of your presents equally!” Harry chirped.  “Now can we  _ please _ talk about something else?”

 

With yet another sigh, Callidus relented, not wanting to upset Harry on his birthday.  There was no sense in forcing the matter.  Perhaps he would try and do some research, while he had the extensive Malfoy library on hand.  And he wasn’t jealous that Draco had gotten Harry the better present.  Not one bit.

 

A few days later, the three boys received their second year letters from Hogwarts.  They had been spending the past few days testing out the combination of the Camouflage and Foot-silencing Potions, terrorizing the Malfoy’s albino peacocks, and house-elves and basically any other living creature (aside from the senior Malfoys) that they came across.  Callidus kept intending to research the subject of enchantments, but after not seeing his brother/friends for a month, it was hard to resist the call of fun.  There would be plenty of time for research later, and since that first day, there had been no recurrence of strange behaviour from Harry.  Yes, it was true that if he used his magical sensitivity, something felt  _ different _ about Harry, but as far as he could tell, Harry was his normal, energetic self.

 

The trio were late down to the breakfast table, and Lucius Malfoy, who was reading the  _ Daily Prophet _ arched a blond eyebrow at them.  The trio said their ‘good mornings,’ and Draco looked slightly abashed.  It was his fault that they were late - he was the one who spent twenty minutes fussing with his robes because they wouldn’t ‘drape right.’  They sat in their usual places.

 

 “Your school letters have arrived,” Lucius Malfoy intoned.  “I gather you’ll be needing new supplies.  I can take you to Diagon Alley on Wednesday, so be prepared.”  He called out for one of the house-elves, who appeared with a pop, bearing a silver platter on which the three letters sat.  The boys each took their letters, unfolding and then reading them.

 

 “It’s mostly just books,” Draco observed, as his eyes scanned the green-coloured ink.  “From a - Gilderoy Lockhart?  Father, have you heard of this fellow?”  

 

A look of disdain crossed the elder Malfoy’s face.  “He’s your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.  Questionable background.  Dumbledore seems to be scraping the bottom of the barrel in his attempt to fill that ill-fated post.  I don’t know what it will take to convince those fools on the Board of Governors that Dumbledore is unfit to run an institution like Hogwarts.  Most of them are blinded by his past accomplishments, and can’t seem to see how he’s fallen into doddering senility.”

 

 “Quite right, Father,” Draco agreed, and Harry and Callidus had to do their best to refrain from rolling their eyes at the breakfast table.  It wasn’t too difficult because both of them were still intimidated by the cold, predatory demeanour of Lucius Malfoy.  

 

In the days before Wednesday, Harry and Draco decided to create some sort of self-enforced training schedule on their brooms, determined that this year would be the year that they would make it onto the Slytherin Quidditch team.  This mostly involved Draco shouting a lot of orders, which Harry gleefully ignored, as he performed some sort of dangerous-looking maneuver, that would make a Quidditch coach proud, and cause worried mothers to have heart palpitations.  It meant that Callidus finally had the opportunity to slip away to the library and research to his heart’s content.  He regretted not showing Hermione the library while she had been at the manor.  It would have been amusing to see her trying to repress her envy.  For a brief moment, Callidus wondered if it made him a bad friend to  _ want _ for Hermione to be envious, but then he just shrugged the whole matter off.  While he learned a great deal of interesting things about enchantments, he learned nothing that gave him an hint about Harry’s necklace.  By the time Wednesday arrived, he felt that he should probably just let the whole matter go.

 

They travelled to Diagon Alley by floo, since Lucius Malfoy didn’t want to have to apparate with three boys at once.  He took them to Gringotts bank first, where the Malfoys and Harry each separately went to their own vaults to collect the gold they needed for their supplies. Callidus had no need for any galleons from his vault.  He had earned enough with his potions trade over the school year to purchase the books he needed.  Besides, without a real job, he didn’t want to dip into his savings unless it was absolutely necessary.  When Harry returned, he looked rather exhilarated from the cart ride, while the Malfoys appeared as polished and unruffled as ever.

 

Outside of Gringotts, Lucius Malfoy looked down on the three boys, a stern expression on his face.  “There is some business I need to take care of today.  You three are to meet me in an hour at Flourish and Blotts.  You are to stay together and not separate.  I am trusting that you are mature enough to understand these terms.”

 

 “Are you going to Knockturn Alley, father?”  Draco queried.  “Can’t we come with you?  Harry and Callidus have never been, have you?”

 

Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes, and Draco’s mouth immediately snapped shut.  “You will be waiting for me at Flourish and Blotts in an hour.  Have I made myself clear?”

 

Draco muttered: “Yes, father,” while Callidus and Harry said: “Yes, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Giving them a curt nod, Lucius Malfoy dropped them off at a nearby shop entrance which turned out to be Quality Quidditch Supplies, while he ventured off to take care of his personal business.  Harry and Draco explored the store with interest, while Callidus half-heartedly trailed behind.  Watching Quidditch might be interesting, but he did not have the same fanatical interest as his friends/brothers did, and he had no interest at all in flying.

 

 “Let’s go to Gambol and Japes next,” Draco suggested, referring to the wizarding joke shop.  When the trio entered the joke shop, they found themselves face-to-face with a bunch of similar-looking red-heads.  It appeared that the Weasley family had decided to do their shopping on the same day as the trio.

 

 “Well, well,” greeted one of the Weasley twins, when they noticed the entrance of the trio.

 

 “Look what we have here,” continued the other twin.

 

 “If it isn’t our little rivals.”

 

 “We never did congratulate you on your last prank, did we?”

 

 “How can you be so sure it was us?” Callidus drawled.  Hogwarts would never be as welcoming of Slytherin pranksters as they would be of Gryffindor ones, and the trio had still been maintaining the secrecy of their actions.  At least to anyone outside of Slytherin.

 

 “What are  _ you _ doing here?” Ron Weasley cut in rudely.

 

 “I might ask you the same question,” Draco countered.  “Isn’t your money better spent buying clothes or food?  Oh wait - silly me - I assumed you could afford both, but considering how you dress, it’s obvious that you can’t.”

 

 “Now, now,” one of the twins interjected.

 

 “No need to be nasty.  We’re all friends, here, aren’t we?”  The twin raised mischievous red eyebrows, flashing toothy grins.

 

 “Is that -” came a feminine voice filled with awe, “- Harry Potter?”

 

The trio looked over and saw yet another red-head, this time a young girl, who immediately flushed a cherry red when she noticed all the eyes on her.  She made an ‘eep!’ sound and quickly ducked away.

 

 “Erm - may we introduce our baby sister, Ginny,” the twins announced, gesturing grandly at the now-empty space.

 

Harry glanced at the empty space with bemusement.  “Nice to meet you?” 

 

There was another embarrassed squeak which had the twins snorting with laughter, and Ron Weasley scrunching up his face with disgust.

 

 “She talks about you non-stop Harry,” one of the twins informed them, conspiratorially. 

 

 “I’m surprised she hasn’t asked you for an autograph.”

 

 “Ugh. Girls,” Ron Weasley muttered under his breath, his arms crossed.  “How can she still like him when he’s a ruddy snake?” 

 

Harry was fidgeting uncomfortably.  He didn’t like being reminded of his fame, and knowing that some little red-headed girl was not-so-secretly gushing over him did not help.  Draco looked like he was trying not to laugh, and even Callidus was mildly amused.

 

As if sensing his embarrassment, the twins grinned.  “Well.”

 

 “Worry not, little hero.”

 

 “Finer men then you have fallen to the wiles of the fairer sex.”  The twins words were only causing Harry’s blush to worsen, so that it had spread up his ears and down his neck.  

 

Draco looked like he was about to make a rude comment about how the youngest Weasley didn’t qualify as ‘fair,’ and not wanting to get into a battle royal in the middle of a joke shop concerning the Weasley’s honour, Callidus quickly cut in.  “We should be getting to Flourish and Blotts.”

 

The twins smirked.  “All right then.”

 

 “We’ll be keeping our eyes on you.”

 

 “Can’t let a trio of snakes steal our glory after all.”  With jaunty waves, the Weasleys twins returned to their shopping, dragging their stubborn younger brother along with them by his arms.

 

Callidus, Harry and Draco left Gambol and Japes without purchasing anything, or truly even having the chance to look around.  Draco looked rather put out by this, while Harry was still embarrassed.  They decided that they would go to Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop next when their attention was caught by a loud ruckus on the streets.

 

Draco craned his neck, trying to catch sight of what was happening  “What’s going on?” 

 

There was a crowd forming, amidst shouts and shrieks.  There were strange animalistic noises, and someone was crying out:  “Help! Get him off!  Get him off me!  He’s mad!”  The trio weren’t sure of whether to back away, or edge closer.  They couldn’t deny that they were curious, but the crowd was thick - especially with families shopping for Hogwarts supplies.  There were sudden flashes of light as spells were being cast.

 

 “Watch that stupefy!” An angry voice snapped.  “You almost got me!”

 

 “ _ Stupefy!  Stupefy! _ ”

 

 “Stop casting!  It’s too crowded!”

 

 “Grab him by the arms!  Help me with this!” A deep voice demanded.  “Get his other one!  Watch that spell!”

 

 “ _ Petrificus Totalis! _ ”

 

 “Someone call for the aurors!”  A high pitched voice cried out.  

 

 “Use  _ Incarcerous! _ ” 

 

 “He’s acting out of control!  He’s like an animal!” Another voice exclaimed.  “What happened?  He was normal before.”

 

 “ _ Incarcerous! _ ”

 

The loud cracking noise of apparition pulled the crowd’s attention as uniformed aurors appeared on the scene, striding forward with a firm and calm authority.  The crowd immediately parted, letting the auror’s through.  Callidus caught a glimpse of a man who was completely bound in ropes and pinned down on the cobblestone by two other men.  The flailing man was wild-eyed and frantic, snarling and thrashing but unable to move.  But then the aurors blocked everything from sight, using a stunning spell to knock the struggling man unconscious.

 

 “Back away, please!” One of the aurors called out.  “Official auror business.”

 

Eventually, the milling crowd dispersed as the roped and unconscious man was taken away.  The shoppers gossiped excitedly, all too eager to spread news of the lurid and dramatic scene.  The trio listened curiously eventually gathering the pieces together.  It sounded as though one of the shoppers, who had been acting perfectly normal beforehand if a bit over-chatty, suddenly snapped and started grunting and snarling, throwing his fists and attacking the people nearest to him.  No one had seen any spells being cast at him, though some speculated that perhaps he was carrying a cursed object.  As accustomed as people might be to magic, it wasn’t every day that a man just started acting like a rabid, aggressive beast, so it was interesting news.

 

The twins were so intrigued to have witnessed the event almost first-hand that an hour had passed, and they belatedly realized that they needed to get to Flourish and Blotts.

 

 “My father is going to kill me!” Draco groaned, as he tugged his brother/friends towards the bookstore.  “I can’t believe we forgot to keep track of the time!”

 

Harry stumbled after him.  “Just explain what happened!”

 

 “If he doesn’t kill me first!” 

 

The trio made their way to the bookstore, and saw Lucius Malfoy standing outside, his hand gripping the head of his walking stick, and a tightness around his eyes and jaw.  His silvery eyes narrowed dangerously as they fell upon the trio who were clumsily dashing up to him.  There was a banner over the bookstore window that proclaimed that there was a book signing inside, but considering the frosty look in Lucius Malfoy’s eyes, the sign didn’t seem important.

 

 “Did I not tell you to meet me here over an hour ago?” Lucius Malfoy questioned darkly, his voice level and yet filled with an unspoken sort of threat.

 

Draco’s head was bowed, and it was strange for Callidus to see his friend so subdued. “I apologize father.”

 

 “Someone was going berserk on the streets!” Harry interjected, hating to see Draco being chastised.  “There were aurors and everything!”

 

 “Pardon?” Lucius Malfoy turned to examine Harry, and his grip on his walking stick tightened. 

 

 “There was some guy who started attacking people out of nowhere,” Harry babbled.  “People were casting spells, and shouting, and trying to stop him, and I think they had to physically pin him down, and eventually, they managed to bind him him, and the aurors came and took him away.”

 

Rather than looking surprised, the elder Malfoy looked even tenser.  In fact, if Callidus had to guess, he would have said that the man was angry.  But why?  Was he still upset at Draco?  It wasn’t as though any of them could predict such a thing would happen.

 

 “Father?” Draco’s voice was small and hesitant, as the trio awaited Lucius Malfoy’s response.

 

 “Thank Merlin you three are safe,” the elder Malfoy intoned, sounding not particularly thankful.  It was as though he only spoke the words because they were what was expected in the situation.  However, he did not appear to be upset with Draco any longer.  Rather, Lucius Malfoy became preoccupied with his own thoughts, and the trio might as well have not existed.

 

They were herded into Flourish and Blotts was which packed.  Inside the store, they caught sight of a familiar bushy head of hair.  It looked as if Hermione had chosen the same day to buy her school supplies.

 

 “Hermione,” Callidus called out, but she did not appear to hear him.

 

 “Hermione!” Harry’s voice carried a bit better, and Hermione turned around, giving them a wide smile and a wave when she saw them.  There were several books clutched against her chest.  The trio pushed their way towards her.

 

 “Who’s giving the signing today?”  Callidus asked.

 

 “You didn’t see the big sign outside?  Oh - it’s really too bad you weren’t here earlier.  You missed his big speech!” she gushed, looking and sounding far too excited.

 

 “Whose big speech?” Harry questioned.

 

 “Gilderoy Lockhart’s!  He’s incredible!”

 

The trio shared a look.  “He’s here?” Callidus queried.  The trio looked around the store, but Lockhart must have been sitting down to do his signings because they could not see him.

 

 “Of course he’s here!” Hermione replied, starry-eyed. “I’m just waiting in line to get my books signed.  I’m ever so glad that we’ll be learning from his wonderful books this year.”

 

 “Er -” Harry eyed the crowd uneasily.  “Well, I think we just want to get our books and get out of here.”

 

 “Yes, this is ridiculous.”  Draco looked at the people around him with an expression of slight disgust, as though someone unsavoury might accidently  _ touch _ him or something.

 

 “You’d like to meet him, wouldn’t you, Callidus?” Hermione’s expression was hopeful.  “I know you’d respect a well-written author.”

 

 “I believe I’ll pass,” Callidus answered.  “We’ll be seeing him in class anyway.”

 

Hermione gave him a puzzled look.  “What do you mean?” 

 

 “He’ll be teaching at Hogwarts.  Didn’t you know?”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up with bright awe.  “Truly?  This is wonderful!  I can’t believe it!”

 

 “Yes well - thus our lack of desire to stand around, getting our course books signed,” Callidus concluded.

 

Hermione pouted but seemed to get over her disappointment quickly.  “Oh.  Well, all right.”

 

As the trio collected the books that they needed, they heard some of the bookstore’s patrons talking about the scene that had occurred on the street.

 

An arrogant voice declared: “Why, if only I had known of it!  I would have taken care of that blackguard in a jiffy!  He wouldn’t have stood a chance against me!”

 

There was a collective sigh that seemed to go around the room - especially among the women.  Callidus could have sworn that he even saw some of them fluttering their eyelashes.  It was decidedly odd.

 

 “I could have used one or two of my signature spells on him!” The voice continued to brag.  “That way, no innocent bystanders would have been hurt, and the aurors wouldn’t have even been needed!  Besides my smile - which as many of you know, has won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming-Smile Award five times in a row - is known to be good for calming down hysterical crowds.”

 

 “That isn’t our future-professor, is it?” Harry questioned.  “He sound like -” Harry tried to search for the best word to describe the idiocy that they were being subjected to.

 

 “A complete pillock, is what he sounds like,” Draco muttered.  “My father is right.  Dumbledore really is scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

 

 “Let’s get out of here,” Callidus suggested.  “I don’t think this store is big enough for all us  _ and _ that man’s ego.”

 

As rapidly as possible, the trio found all the books they needed, and by the time they had all paid, they were glad to leave not only the bookstore, but Diagon Alley.  It had been a highly eventful day.


	5. Chapter 5

The unusual event that the trio had witnessed the previous day in the streets of Diagon Alley ended up being front page news in the  _ Daily Prophet _ .  MAN VIOLENTLY ATTACKS BYSTANDERS ON DIAGON ALLEY!  The headline read.  And beneath that, in slightly smaller letters: SPELL?  CURSE?  OR FRIGHTENING NEW DISEASE?  

 

Curious to know more about it, the trio took the paper after Lucius was finished with it, scanning the details of the article.  They did not end up discovering anything particularly illuminating.  The man had been a muggleborn, living quite comfortably in wizarding society for decades (unlike numerous other muggleborns who often returned to the muggle world.)  He had been unmarried, but had numerous friends, and coworkers thought well of him.  There had been an odd orange rash on his lower back that the researchers in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was still investigating.

 

On the second page of the newspaper, there had been an article about over-excited women and Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing in Diagon Alley, but the trio cared nothing about that (though Callidus may have silently snickered as he imagined Hermione being one of those over-excited women.)  The three of them might have put the strange incident in Diagon Alley behind them, but because of the particular tensions that were arising in the wizarding world, the issue could not be so easily forgotten.  Public perception towards muggles had steadily been becoming more negative.  Callidus could not help thinking about some of the things that Caiside had told him: how some wizards and witches were engaging in muggle baiting, or how various towns and villages were feeling an increasing sense of animosity towards muggles.  It was no surprise then, that this negative attitude towards muggles would eventually extend towards muggleborns.

 

The  _ Daily Prophet _ , which spuriously claimed to be an unbiased source of information did not ever actually print any articles laying blame on muggleborns.  Something like that would have stretched the credulity of too many of their readers.  The  _ Prophet _ did, however, post opinion pieces, and other articles that often painted muggleborns in a negative light.  It was maddening enough that Callidus was tempted to stop read the paper although.  To make matters more aggravating, Draco acted as though the papers were perfectly justified in reporting the information that they did.

 

It was with a sense of relief when a few days later, Callidus and Harry were packed up to leave for Hogwarts, where they would stay for the rest of the summer holidays.  The outcry related to the attack in Diagon Alley was finally dying down, and hopefully the rest of the summer could be enjoyed in peace.  Callidus and Harry travelled by floo, arriving in Professor McGonagall’s office in Hogwarts.  Professor Slughorn may have been their Head of House, but he was not spending his summer at the school.  As for Professor Dumbledore, he may have been at the school, but the headmaster was a busy man.  Thus, the responsibility for the boys rested largely on McGonagall’s shoulders, though at twelve, the boys felt old enough to take care of themselves.

 

 “Welcome back, Mr. Potter.  Hello, Mr. Prince,” Professor McGonagall greeted them, her expression stern, but at the same time, somehow warm.

 

 “Hullo, Professor!” Harry smiled brightly while Callidus gave her a polite nod.

 

 “Should we take our belongings down to the dungeon?” Callidus gestured towards their trunks.

 

 “Merlin, no!” McGonagall answered.  “There are a set of spare rooms that have been transfigured for your needs for the rest of the summer.”

 

Harry leaned over to Callidus and whispered: “She doesn’t want to go all the way down to the dungeons to have to check on us.”

 

Callidus wasn’t sure of what to make of that.  A part of him felt a bit affronted.  Did McGonagall lump him and Harry in the same category as the Weasleys, or something?  Neither Callidus nor Harry would ever be so unruly as to damage or destroy anything in the Slytherin dungeons.  But Callidus did not protest.  He was curious enough about their temporary lodgings.

 

Callidus’s and Harry’s new rooms were close to Professor McGonagall’s office.  It was probably a converted classroom, but it had a nice set of four poster beds (in neutral shades of beige and brown), and they had their own bathroom.  There was a large window from which the Quidditch pitch could be seen.  It was actually rather nice.

 

 “Be aware that curfew still applies,” Professor McGonagall informed them.  “I won’t have you two running around Hogwarts at all hours of the night.  It’s a privilege for you to be able to stay here over the summers, and I expect both of you to respect that.”

 

 “Yes, Professor,” the boys replied dutifully.  McGonagall left them to unpack and settle in.  When that was taken care of, Harry looked over at Callidus.

 

 “What do you feel like doing?”

 

Callidus tilted his head in thought.  Last summer, he had spent his time at Hogwarts exploring and reading (but mostly reading).  Then again, last summer, he was still grieving the loss of Lily.  He felt a sharp pang in his heart at the recollection.  He still missed her, but at least he had many new friends now.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “What have you been doing while you were here?”  Since Harry had only needed to stay with his muggle relatives for two weeks, he had already been at Hogwarts for a while.

 

 “Looked for secret passages.  Flew around the Quidditch pitch, but the brooms here aren’t as nice as Draco’s.  Erm - tried to learn some new spells that might be useful for pranking.  What  _ should _ we do for pranks this year, anyway?  Remember what the Weasley twins said?”

 

Callidus hummed thoughtfully.  “This will require some research.”  Harry scrunched up his face at the thought of research. 

 

 “I didn’t necessarily mean in the library,” Callidus clarified.  “The more of Hogwart’s secrets that we can learn, the better.  And should we try another school-wide prank, or target someone in particular?”

 

 “I wouldn’t feel right about targeting a single person,” Harry mused.  “It should be something fun, that’ll make everyone laugh.”

 

Callidus couldn’t help but smile.  Harry still seemed too nice for a Slytherin.  If Draco were here, he’d probably be suggesting the most humiliating types prank possible.  

 

 “Maybe we should try and make something this year,” Harry continued.  “We could try and make our own joke-items, like the Weasleys do.”

 

 “It might involve magic that’s more advanced than our current skill level.”

 

Harry shrugged and grinned.  “I’m willing to learn, for the sake of pranking.”

 

 “It’s actually a good idea.  It would make for an interesting project.”  Callidus thought about Caiside’s exploding seed pods, and how much of an advantage it could be to have offencive tools without relying on one’s wand.  He was liking the whole concept more and more.  “We should do it.  Any ideas?”

 

Harry hummed.  “You know how we saw that bloke going all nutters and attacking people on Diagon Alley?”

 

 “What about him?”

 

 “What if we had something that could have calmed him down, without hurting the people around him?”

 

 “Do you have something in mind?”

 

Harry nodded.  “You know how muggles have things like tear gas or laughing gas?  What if we make something similar.  Like, a magical equivalent.  Sort of like a dungbomb, but instead of making things smell like dung, it makes people friendly.”

 

 “Hmm.”  Callidus considered the notion.  It had a lot of possibilities.  He had never considered potions administration via gas form - such a thing would have held immense risks because gasses were so difficult to control.  Was it doable?  He didn’t see why not.  In fact, the idea was incredibly intriguing.  He hadn’t given much thought to what kind of potions projects he wanted to attempt this year, and now he had an interesting avenue of possible research.

 

 “That’s a really good idea, Harry.”

 

Harry brightened.  “You think so?”

 

Callidus nodded. “Definitely.  In terms of making people friendly - the basis of that could be something like a love potion, but milder, and more generalized.  The question is whether we can create the potion in gas form.  Or - hm.  I wonder if there is a way to create vessel that perhaps vapourizes the potion, dispersing the liquid as a gas.  Potions can be highly reactive to their vessels.  Perhaps we could magically alter the phials themselves to turn them into vapourizers when properly triggered.  This has a lot of possibilities.  We should go to the library.”

 

Harry groaned.

 

Callidus sighed.  “Fine.  We can look for secret passages today.  But the library really would be the best place to start if we’re going to be crafting prank objects.”

 

Harry beamed happily.  They spent the next few hours wandering parts of the castle that they were less familiar with.  The castle seemed to have a lot of unused classrooms.  Perhaps, before the previous wizarding war, there had been more school children, and the castle had been fuller.  But now, much of it stood empty.  They didn’t manage to find any secret passages, but they did find a hidden room and spoke to a chatty portrait that claimed that the way into the Hogwarts kitchens involved tickling a pear.  The hidden room seemed to have a masochistic streak and only opened its door under coercion and insults.  As for the mystery of the kitchens, Callidus didn’t know what to believe. 

 

When their energy began to flag, Callidus attempted convince Harry that the library would be a good place to relax.

 

 “Madam Pince doesn’t spend her summers at Hogwarts,” Callidus pointed out.  “And yes, the chairs are hard, but we can just use a cushioning charm.  Seeing as you’re pretty much a master at creating cushioning charms, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

Harry snickered.  “I s’pose that considering I managed to save your life with a cushioning charm, I am pretty good at them, aren’t I?”

 

 “I bow to your greater knowledge, wise master.”  Callidus performed a smooth bow.

 

 “It’s too bad we can’t just transfigure the chairs into beds,” Harry sighed.  “Or at least a soft, cushy sofa.”

 

 “I imagine that the library would be the ideal place to find the transfiguration spell you need to turn a chair into a bed.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  You know what?  I’m going to do it.  I’m going to learn to turn a chair into a sofa.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Of course.”  What mattered was that Harry was agreeing to join him in the library.

 

In the end, Callidus ended up taking several books with him back to their shared chambers, rather than remaining in the library.  Harry had, indeed, attempted to transfigure a chair into a soft sofa, but after setting one of the chairs on fire, Callidus decided that library really wasn’t the ideal location for letting Harry pratice spells.  At least in their chambers, they weren’t at risk of creating an inferno that would burn down centuries and centuries of knowledge.  

 

The four poster beds at Hogwarts might not have been as soft and luxurious as the ones at Malfoy manor, but Callidus went to bed that night feeling warm and contented.  He liked spending time with Draco, but he also liked having the chance to have Harry to himself.  Draco could be so demanding of Harry’s attention.  While it was true that Draco provided amusing company, Callidus did find him a bit tiring - especially once Draco started prattling about himself.  He wasn’t sure how Harry put up with it so well.

 

Though sleep came easily that night, Callidus’s rest was disrupted by the sound of rustling and moaning.  It was still pitch black outside, and Callidus couldn’t even guess what time it was.  He wondered if he had just been awoken by random castle noises from this unfamiliar room, when heard the moaning again.  It was Harry.  Was his friend having bad dreams?

 

Callidus wasn’t sure of what to do.  When he had shared a bed with Harry in Malfoy manor, Harry usually slept pretty well.  Sometimes, he would feel the other boy tossing or turning, and occasionally, Harry would mumble in his sleep.  But whatever Harry was dreaming about seemed to be more troubling than usual because the other boy kept flinging his arms and legs restlessly, making unhappy sounds.  Should Callidus wake him?  Would that be weird?

 

Callidus shifted onto his side, and tried to go back to sleep, but Harry wouldn’t stop moving and moaning.  Perhaps it would be a good idea to make sure his friend was all right.  Pulling his covers aside, Callidus lit the tip of his wand with a dim  _ lumos _ spell and crept to the side of his friend’s bed.

 

 “Harry?”  There seemed to be no reaction, except that Harry furrowed his brow.

 

 “Harry!” Callidus spoke a bit louder this time, reaching out to touch his friend’s shoulder.  With a jerk, Harry jolted awake, causing Callidus to flinch back.

 

 “Cal?  What the hell?!  Get that damn light out of my face!” Harry hissed, sounding angrier than Callidus had ever heard him before.  “What’s your problem?  Why did you wake me?  I was so close to to figuring it all out!  I was so close to knowing the chamber’s secrets!  Just - arg!  Don’t  _ Ever _ wake me again, got that?”

 

 “I - I apologize,” Callidus said stiffly.  “I’ll leave you to your rest then.”

 

Harry just made a disgruntled noise, turning his back on Callidus and throwing the covers over his head.  When Callidus climbed back into his bed, it took a long time for him to fall back asleep.

 

The following morning, Callidus was guarded and uneasy around Harry, but his friend seemed to be back to normal.  They had changed into their robes and were making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.  Harry was chattering about some new prank suggestions, and about spells he wanted to learn.  It wasn’t until they were seated and half-way finished eating breakfast that Harry noticed Callidus’s subdued manner.

 

 “Cal?  Is everything all right?  You seem quieter than usual.”

 

 “Is everything all right with you?” Callidus threw the question back.

 

Harry’s expression was perplexed.  “With me?  Why wouldn’t things be all right?”

 

 “You flew off the handle last night when I woke you.”

 

 “I - what?  I did?”  Harry’s wrinkled his face as he tried to recall.  “I remember having some interesting dreams.  If I said something to you, I didn’t mean it.”

 

 “You don’t remember me waking you?”  Callidus’s expression was incredulous.

 

Harry shook his head.  “Not really, no.  Could I have been sleep talking?  You said you’ve heard me talk in my sleep before, yeah?”

 

 “It didn’t particularly sound like sleep talking.”

 

Harry frowned.  “I don’t know how else to explain it.  What did I say?”

 

 “You got really mad at me.  You told me not to wake you again.  And something about secrets.  And a chamber?  Were you dreaming about that room we found yesterday?”

 

Harry hummed.  “I don’t think so.  All I can remember was seeing a really big stone head.  Weird, huh?  But maybe all this talk about finding secret passages is affecting my dreams.”

 

 “Perhaps that’s what it is.”

 

 “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  Harry was starting to look a bit guilty.

 

 “Nevermind it. I imagine I’m making something out of nothing.  It isn’t a big deal.”

 

 “Hm.  All right then.”

 

Their conversation was disrupted by the sight of an unfamiliar owl, which dropped a letter on top of Callidus’s eggs.  Picking up the folded parchment, and wiping off the bits of eggs with mild irritation, Callidus checked the front of the letter to see who it was from.

 

 “Who wrote you?” Harry questioned.  “That doesn’t look like the parchment that Draco or Hermione uses.”

 

Callidus broke into a smile when he read the name of the sender.  “It’s Wystan.  I haven’t heard from him all summer.  I was beginning to think he forgot me.”

 

Harry’s smile echoed Callidus’s.  “Really?  What does he have to say?”

 

Callidus broke upon the seal, and unfolded the letter.

 

_ Hello Callidus _ , it began in Wystan’s neat but pointy scrawl,

 

_ How has your summer hols been?  Knowing what I know of you, I can’t decide if your idea of a break would involve getting away from the potions lab, or spending  _ more _ time in the potions lab.  I have a feeling that it’s probably the latter.  Do you even have access to a lab over the summers?  Because now I’m starting to imagine you deprived of your beloved lab, and it creates a sad, sad picture.  Maybe you’ll find a girlfriend, like me!  Go have yourself a summer fling.  Calypso says ‘hi.’  We’re doing well, by the way.  Slowly and steadily, she’s succumbing to my irresistible charms. _  Here, the handwriting seemed to change into a loopy, rounded small text that said:  _ Ha!  Yeah right.  He wishes.  Don’t ever ask him for relationship advice, Callidus! _

 

The writing changed back to the pointy scrawl.  _ See?  Tight as ever.  Anyhow, things have been pretty busy with me.  I started up that advocacy group I was telling you about.  We (myself and the other organizers) decided to call it FLAME, which stands for ‘Freedom to Learn: Association of Magical Encompassment.’  I admit, it’s a bit unwieldy, but believe me, our other ideas were much more awkward.  Don’t even ask.  We’ll be focusing on gaining awareness for types of magic that have been swept under the rug, due to the label of being Dark.  We have quite a number of supporters and backers, so we’ll also be funding our own research too.  _

 

_ I’ve been speaking to some of my friends (and yes, Callidus, they  _ are _ my friends, not just a bunch of people I collect,) and they’ll be starting up a club at Hogwarts called ARMED (Association of Rare Magic Education  & Development.)  You’re going to join right?  Of course you are.  You could never resist knowledge, could you?  Some of my friends will be donating books and grimoires to the cause.  You’ll have to speak to Euphemia Rowle about it.  She’ll know more.  You could speak to Gabriel Truman as well, but Slytherins tend to have certain, better connections, if you know what I mean. _

 

_ Let me know if you happen to make any new and interesting discoveries.  Actually, let me know if there’s any new and interesting things happening at Hogwarts too!   _ The handwriting changed again to that rounded script.  _ He means juicy gossip!  He’s such a hen! _

 

The handwriting returned to the pointy scrawl.   _ Hope to hear from you soon.  _

 

_ Your friend, _

 

_ Wystan Overcliff (and in case you can’t tell, Calypso contributed too!) _

 

Callidus’s feeling were mixed as he read the letter.  He enjoyed hearing from Wystan, and was amused by Calypso’s comments.  On the other hand, he was fairly certain that Calypso was the person who had been attacking him in first year.  True, she didn’t hurt him in the end, and true, he couldn’t exactly fully remember that last encounter.  He simply couldn’t like Calypso wholeheartedly.  And yet, he wanted Wystan to be happy.

 

Callidus handed the letter over to Harry to read.  When Harry finished the letter, he looked amused but thoughtful.

 

 “So, we’re going to be joining this new club?” Harry asked.

 

 “I suppose so.  It sounds interesting.”

 

Harry hummed.  “I just realized that with Wystan gone, we don’t have anyone to head up the Slytherin faction of the duelling club.  Do you think Flitwick will continue it this year?”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.  Either way, I think there would be a lot of advantages to joining ARMED, as Wystan calls it.  Hogwarts’ library is impressive, but it  _ is _ lacking in certain areas.”

 

A look of mischief appeared on Harry’s face.  “This  _ could _ be what we need to gain an edge over the Weasleys.  I say we should join!”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Glad we agree.”


	6. Chapter 6

The first of September soon arrived, and Callidus and Harry were being dropped off at King’s Cross Station to join their friends on the Hogwarts Express.

 

 “I can’t believe that we were taken all the way to London just so we could take the train to back to Hogwarts,” Harry moaned.  “We were already there!  What’s the point?”

 

 “I believe that it’s so that people like Draco won’t have an aneurysm when he sees that we’re not on the train.”

 

 “Draco already knows that we’re at Hogwarts,” Harry pointed out.

 

 “Yes, but just think of how lonely he’d be without us.”

 

A chortle escaped Harry’s lips.  He was no doubt imagining Draco in a compartment, all alone with some sort of pitiful little pout on his pale face and watery eyes.  Of course, in no universe would this ever happen.  Draco was too rich, and his family name too well, for him to ever have to suffer being alienated and isolated from his peers.  

 

With an expression somewhere between resignation and amusement, Harry said: “Come on, let’s find Draco before he expires from loneliness.”

 

They walked through the length of the train, checking the compartments until they found Draco, crammed in with most of the other first year Slytherins.

 

 “All right!” Draco declared.  “They’re here.  Everyone, Out!”

 

 “But Draaaky!” Parkinson pouted.

 

 “OUT!” 

 

Parkinson clutched onto Harry’s arm.  “You want me here, don’t you Harry?”  She looked up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

 

Callidus snorted  “I don’t think anyone’s falling for that,  _ Pans _ .  We’ve all seen the real you.”

 

 “Oh shush,  _ Cal _ !  You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without me.  Harry?”  Parkinson somehow managed to make her eyes even bigger and more soulful.

 

 “I - Draco, just look at her!  I can’t say no!” Harry cried.  “Besides, she gives really good scalp massages.”

 

Parkinson smiled smugly.  “I do, don’t I?”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes, and plopped down on an empty seat in the compartment.  “Frankly Draco, between her ability to manipulate Harry, and your ability to manipulate Harry, I think Parkinson has you beat.”

 

 “I’m not being manipulated,”  Harry interjected, to which, Callidus arched his eyebrow.  “Okay, fine, maybe I am.  But I like scalp massages!  It’s a win-win situation.”

 

Draco stubbornly crossed his arms.  “In what way am I winning?” 

 

 “You win by being a good sport,” Parkinson quipped.  “Blaise!  Where are you?”

 

Draco was muttering: “But I don’t want to be a good sport,” when Zabini peeked into the compartment.  

 

 “Managed to bully your way into staying, Pansy?” Zabini asked.

 

 “Charmed, Blaise.  I charmed my way in,” Parkinson corrected.

 

Zabini smiled indulgently.  “Ah, of course Pansy.  I must have misspoke.”

 

Once everyone was settled in the compartment, Callidus pulled out a book while the others gossiped (or more accurately, Parkinson shared gossip to a mostly interested crowd.)  At some point, Draco brought out a travelling wizarding chessboard, and they ended up playing a two versus two game, which only served to stress out and aggravate the chess pieces, who didn’t know who they should be listening to.  Callidus did not pay too much interest to his surroundings until heard Parkinson mention the word ARMED.

 

Callidus lowered his book.  “What do you know of ARMED?” 

 

 “Oh?  Were you listening in this whole time,  _ Cal _ ?  And here I thought you’d have no interest in society.”

 

Callidus just raised his eyebrow, unwilling to dignify the gibe with an answer.  Parkinson rolled her eyes.  “I was just saying that Euphemia Rowle, who’s one of the Heads of the club, is a two-faced hag.  Oh, she has the perfect pureblood manners, and can act all sweet in front of anyone important enough, but if she thinks you’re beneath her, she’s a vicious viper.”

 

 “I’ve never seen seen Euphemia Rowle being anything other than polite,” Draco reflected.

 

 “That doesn’t argue my point.  Besides,  _ Euphie _ -” (there was a touch of venom when Parkinson used the epitaph) “- has only ever been polite to me.  But I have eyes, you know.  People seem to forget that I  _ see _ things.  She was horrid to Millie.”

 

 “But Millie’s so nice!” Harry put forward.

 

 “The nicest there is,” Parkinson agreed.  “Well, aside from you, Harry.  The point is, I don’t know if I’d want to join a club run by Euphemia.  I think she sees it as some sort of power grab.  She’s greedy and petty and she’s always putting on such  _ airs _ .  I don’t know what Wystan was thinking, allowing her to be in charge.”

 

 “Not everyone is as observant as you, Pansy” Zabini pointed.  “Like Draco, I’ve never seen Euphemia Rowle behaving uncivilly.  But -” he raised his hands defensively, warding off Parkinson’s protests, “- that said, I trust you Pansy.  If you say that she’s two-faced, she probably is.”

 

 “She  _ is _ two-faced!” Parkinson emphasized.  “I’d sooner trust old Sluggy to guard a stash of candied pineapples when his blood sugar is low, than I’d trust  _ Euphie _ .”

 

Callidus and Harry shared a speaking look.  Both of them had planned on joining ARMED, but Parkinson’s words were not making them feel optimistic.  Parkinson herself could be pretty nasty and acid-tongued to people she didn’t like.  If Parkinson thought that Euphemia Rowle was an bad person, that wasn’t a good sign.  

 

Since Parkinson knew little else about Euphemia Rowle, the topic soon moved onto something else and Callidus stopped paying attention.  He tried to return to reading his book, but he found himself thinking about the possibly two-faced Euphemia Rowle.  For some reason, it made him think of Harry.  Harry wasn’t at all two-faced (as far as Callidus was concerned), and yet, there was something going on that made him feel uneasy.

 

After that initial night at Hogwarts, Harry had had a few more nights of moaning and thrashing about.  Callidus hadn’t made a move to wake him, and the moaning always stopped on its own.  However, one time, when it seemed worse than usual, Callidus had climbed out of bed, debating whether or not to disrupt Harry.  He had stood by Harry’s bedside, his wand lit, like last time, wondering if his behaviour might somehow be creepy, as though he were some sort of dungeon bat swooping in in the night or something, which only made him feel worse about the whole thing.  Harry’s sleeping expression looked almost angry, and Callidus could imagine the raven-haired boy’s look of scorn if he tried to wake him.  He had reached forward, and at that moment, his eyes fell upon the cord of Harry’s dragon-tooth necklace.  Unsure of what was driving him, he focused on magical sensitivity, and that strangely hostile feeling of cold waves beneath his skin returned, almost as strong as the first time he was ever aware of it. 

 

It had left Callidus feeling nauseous, and he had recoiled away, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his own bed and forget about the whole night.  Somehow, he managed to stand firm.  A few minutes later, the line between Harry’s brow had smoothed away and his expression became more peaceful.  Tentatively, Callidus used his magical sensing again, and while the feeling of cold waves persisted, it was much weaker now.

 

Callidus wasn’t sure of what to make of it.  Unwilling to leave the matter to himself (because that wouldn’t have solved anything), he had mentioned it to Harry.  But Harry was convinced that Callidus was just sensing the protective magic from the pendant, and nothing could convince him that the problem might be more insidious.  Harry did not want to discuss the issue, even when Callidus tried to pass it off as intellectual curiosity.  Instead, Harry became more focused on discovering Hogwarts’ secrets than ever.  He seemed to believe there was some sort of important place that was his to claim.  In the end, Callidus dropped the matter.  He scoured Hogwarts’ library for more information about enchantments, but in the end, he came up with nothing.  

 

The sky was beginning to darken, and the Slytherins could hear increased activity outside of their compartment as the train drew near to Hogwarts.

 

 “First years,” Parkinson said in a bored and affected manner, as if they hadn’t just been first years last year.  She was still a little too young to effectively pull off ‘sophisticated-cynicism,’ but Callidus couldn’t help but have the premonition that in a few years, her words would cause the devastation of fragile egos everywhere, with each casually dropped syllable.  He was suddenly glad that Parkinson was on their side.

 

The train pulled to a stop, and as the Slytherins made their way to the platform, Callidus caught sight of Caiside, who had spotted him at the same time.  He arched his eyebrow at her, and she raised her eyebrows in turn, which caused him to snort with amusement.  He was curious to see what house she would get sorted in.  He knew that the Filodoxos wanted her to be in Slytherin, where she could make ‘proper connections,’ but he had a feeling that Caiside’s sorting would be a surprise, of the best sort.  Callidus also caught sight of a familiar red-headed girl, who was looking at an oblivious Harry with a mix of longing and admiration.

 

He heard Hagrid calling for the first years, and the trio waved to the half-giant, who flashed them a smile and waved back before leading the first years away.

 

 “I can’t wait to see how big Norberta’s grown,” Draco commented, as they walked along the mud track towards the stagecoaches that would take them to Hogwarts.  “D’you think she’d still recognize me?  I spent a lot of time with her last spring, and I helped to feed her a few times.  I bet she’ll still remember me.  Don’t you think she might?  Dragons are intelligent creatures.  She’ll probably remember me.”  Somehow, the novelty of Hagrid’s dragon still hadn’t worn off for Draco, and it had created an odd, but endearing bond between Draco and the Hogwarts gamekeeper.  In fact, the new dragon, complete with its specially created magical enclosure was a subject of great interest for all the students.  

 

The Slytherins climbed into the coaches, which Callidus knew was pulled by the invisible thestrals.  He learned that it was much more comfortable riding in a coach (even if it smelled faintly like mold and straw), than riding on a thestral’s back, even if he had to listen to Draco complaining about it the whole time.  They passed through a beautifully ornate wrought-iron gate between a pair of columns topped with winged boars, and were pulled up a long drive, taking them closer and closer to the imposing castle.

 

Though Callidus and Harry had been in the castle just this morning, seeing it again still filled them with a renewed sense of awe.  Perhaps it was due to the presence of the other students around them.  Somehow, it just felt more  _ magical _ .  They entered through the oak doors into the entrance hall which was brightly lit with torches.  Following the mass of students, they turned to the door on the right, leading into the Great Hall, and made their way to the Slytherin table.  It felt strange, to be leaving a space at the end of the table for the new first years.  It was as though they were somehow more of a part of Hogwarts than ever.

 

The first years emerged through a side door, most of them with their heads craned up to the magnificent enchanted ceiling and its multitude of floating candles.  McGonagall brought out the stool and the hat, and they all sat and listened to its song about the different houses.

 

 “Look at them, they look scared,” Draco snickered.  

 

 “It kind of  _ was _ scary,” Harry recalled.  Callidus didn’t think it had been that bad.  But then again, he didn’t have the whole Hall bursting out in whispers when his name was spoken.  Briefly, he wondered what the school had thought about Harry’s sorting into Slytherin.  Would Harry have been more popular if he had ended up in one of the other Houses?  Being in Slytherin meant that to some degree, he would have been ostracised by the other Houses, but on the other hand, it insulated him as well.

 

Callidus paid little heed to the sorting, giving a desultory sort of applause anytime a first year was sorted into Slytherin.  He did not sit up until he heard ‘Filodoxos, Caiside!’ being called by McGonagall.  The curly-haired girl stepped up to the stool, managing to hide any trepidation she might have felt.  He had a feeling she would do well in Slytherin.

 

The hat seemed to be taking a while, and as it twisted this way and that on her head, a familiar smug smile spread across Caiside’s face, and Callidus leaned forward without being aware that he had done so.  What was it going to be?  Ravenclaw perhaps?  She was pretty bookish (at least when she wasn’t busy with her garden.)  Or Hufflepuff?  Ha.  That would have been good. With a Head of House as the Herbology professor, she would have fit right in.  Or, could it be Gryffindor?  Madam Filodoxos would have an apoplectic fit if she ended up in Gryffindor.  

 

If Callidus hadn’t befriended Hermione, he might have felt a stronger disdain towards the House of lions, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but think that it would somehow be fitting (and so very amusing) if Caiside ended up in Gryffindor.

 

 “GRYFFINDOR!” the hat shouted, and Callidus sat back, exclaiming: “Ha!” which caused the now second-year Slytherins to give him odd looks.

 

 “Is that the girl you were staying with over the summer?” Harry queried.  

 

Callidus smirked.  “Yes.  Her parents are going to  _ kill  _ her.  Well, her mother at least. Death by verbal evisceration.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows, bemused.  “You’re happy about that?  I thought you said she wasn’t so bad?”

 

 “Caiside’s all right.  I imagine she’s pleased with herself.”  When Callidus glanced over towards the Gryffindor the table, Caiside still appeared to be wearing her self-satisfied smile, and she had been greeted by the typical boisterous cheers of the lions.  For a moment, Callidus wondered if Caiside would end up befriending Hermione, before he internally cringed at his thoughts.  ‘I’m not some sort of - friend matchmaker,’ he thought.  Who they befriended was their business, and there was no way that he would meddle like some sort of busybody hen.

 

Callidus didn’t think that the rest of the sorting would be of interest.  He didn’t recognize most of the names, except for a few familiar sounding well-known surnames.  But when Professor McGonagall reached the last name on the list, “Weasley, Ginevra!” he was caught by surprise.

 

Callidus was sure that like the rest of the Weasleys, Ginny Weasley would instantly be sorted into Gryffindor.  But then, the silence stretched on and on.  He could see Ginny Weasley peeking glances towards the Slytherin table, obviously seeking out Harry with her eyes.  It couldn’t be that the hat was thinking about putting her in Slytherin, was it?  The idea was preposterous!

 

Finally, after an interminable amount of time, the hat shouted: “GRYFFINDOR!” and everyone sat back with relief that the sorting was finally over.

 

Before the feast could begin, Professor Dumbledore was on his feet, about to make his welcoming speech.  Callidus wondered if it would be as ridiculous as the previous year’s.  He and Harry hadn’t seen much of the old headmaster over the summer.  Callidus had only sat down with Dumbledore once, and when Callidus has asked what the headmaster was doing, he mentioned he was researching the reasons that Voldemort’s spirit was tied down to this world so he could eliminate him for good, and he was also busy with the Wizengamot, trying to assure that the members did not lose their heads over their ‘irrational antagonism’ toward muggles and muggleborns.  In other words, Dumbledore had been caught up in politics.

 

Callidus did not dislike the man.  He was sure that the care and concern that he saw in Professor Dumbledore’s eyes was genuine.  It was just that he was also increasingly sure that his values differed from the old man’s.  While Callidus might respect muggleborns as much as Dumbledore did, that did not mean that he wanted to absorb muggle culture.  And while Dumbledore condemned the Dark Arts, Callidus believed that witches and wizards should be free to explore and perform whatever magic they might choose to perform.  It seemed foolish and over-zealous to assume that all of the Dark Arts were harmful.  True, most of the Dark Arts involved someone or something getting hurt, but in many cases, the sacrifice might be willing (such as if someone willingly used their own blood in a ritual.)

 

That said, Callidus wasn’t about to jump to the other end of the spectrum and embrace the ideals of someone like Lucius Malfoy either.  He didn’t think that purebloods were superior to muggleborns and half-bloods like himself.  If anything, Callidus thought that Wystan’s path was the best.  He wanted to seek knowledge, wherever it might lead (and especially if it led to prestige and power.)  It was a middle path.

 

 “Welcome!” Dumbledore’s voice pulled Callidus from his thoughts.  “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!  As you dig into your feast, here are a few things to keep in mind: Yum!  Delicious! The roast is dry!  Blergh!  I jest, I jest, the roast is never dry.”

 

Callidus groaned.  Was that supposed to be funny?  He could practically hear Draco rolling his eyes, while Harry snorted with amusement.  At least the food had finally magically appeared on their plates.

 

Soon, everyone was sated and sedated due to too much food and pudding, and Dumbledore was standing up again to make school announcements.  Harry and Draco seemed especially keen to hear about Quidditch try-outs, and this year, there was no mention about any fatally dangerous corridors, third-floor or otherwise.

 

 “I am also pleased to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lockhart,” Dumbledore continued to announce.

 

Callidus hadn’t given much thought to the new professor.  After the trio had concluded that the man hardly qualified as a credible teacher, they had lost their curiosity.  Besides, every single one of Lockhart’s ridiculous books included a huge photo of himself, so they already knew what he looked like and dressed like.  The man made peacocks look as modest and dull as particularly uptight nuns compensating for major guilt complexes.

 

At the moment, Lockhart had stood up, and was flashing his blindingly white smile.  He had wavy golden hair that would make any goblin start to feel covetous, and blue eyes that he probably used like a weapon against the hearts of romantically-susceptible women.  In fact, quite a number of the girls in the Great Hall appeared to be collectively sighing as they gazed upon Lockhart’s smiling face.  Even sharp-natured Parkinson was looking a bit dazed, and as for Millicent Bulstrode -

 

 “There’s a face that makes me not want to punch it,” Bulstrode was saying, which was really the highest sort of compliments, coming from her.

 

 “He’s dreamy,” Daphne Greengrass murmured breathily.  “Do you think he offers any one-on-one tutoring sessions?”

 

Callidus cringed, but refrained from comment, not wanting to rekindle his antagonistic relationship with Greengrass on their first day back.  He really did not want to know what went on in the mind of girls.  Finally, Dumbledore announced that it was time for bed, which came as an immense relief because Callidus did not think he could endure another moment of listening to the girls debating the length of Lockhart’s eyelashes.  He had fully convinced himself that there was no way that girls could be human.  They had to be an alien species.  That was the only logical reason for why anyone would think that the length of anyone’s eyelashes would qualify as a subject of serious conversation.

  
The Slytherins followed their prefects down to the dungeons, and while Callidus had liked the chambers he shared with Harry over the summer, the dungeons felt more like home.  They entered their common room (the password was ‘ _ meraclus’ _ ), listened to Professor Slughorn give a rambling welcome speech about connections and potential, and then crawled into their Slytherin-green beds, bellies full of food, and hearts full of optimism for the upcoming year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If not for Callidus, I don't think Caiside would have ended up in Gryffindor. When he questioned why she supported muggles/muggleborns, it changed her perspective and strengthened those values (chivalry particularly.) I think I would have put her into Hufflepuff otherwise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A number of lines are lifted from canon (mostly Creevey's and some of Lockhart's)

The following morning, Callidus and Harry woke up feeling bright and refreshed for the day ahead.  Zabini and Nott acted as if nothing had changed since last spring.  However, Draco was listless, and there were dark circles under his eyes.  By the time Callidus and Harry were already changed and dressed, Draco had barely managed to brush his hair.

 

Callidus sidled up to the blond.  “Draco.”

 

 “What?” the blond snapped.

 

Callidus’s dark eyes gleamed with anticipation.  “You know how I supposedly owe you a favour for leaving you with that crowd of people on Harry’s birthday?”

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits.  “What about it?”

 

Callidus’s lips curled into a wicked smile.  “Would it make us even if I agree not to spend all morning, making fun of you for missing your mummy?”

 

Draco’s cheeks flushed a vivid pink.  “Why you -” his hands scrambled into his pockets, searching out his wand so he could hex his friend, but he was too flustered to find it, and instead, opted to throw out a punch which Callidus narrowly managed to dodge, grinning all the while.

 

 “That’s just heartless, Cal,” Harry was saying reproachfully, but it was hard for Callidus to resist ribbing his friend/brother.  Besides, wasn’t that what brothers did?  He never had siblings, so he didn’t know for sure.

 

At least Draco’s anger had pulled him out of his listless, flat state, and the Slytherin second years made it up to the Great Hall for breakfast just in time to receive their class schedules from Professor Slughorn.  Callidus spent all of breakfast, trying not to lose his appetite as he was subjected to the girls’ fresh new speculations about Lockhart.  Only this time, they weren’t discussing his appearance, but how  _ fascinating _ he was (as if that somehow made their interest in him that much more deeper and soulful.)  It was truly sickening.  Callidus was almost afraid that he may have been put off his kippers forever.

 

The Slytherins’ first class of the day was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.  She had assigned them to trying to transform a beetle into a button, and after a few attempts, Callidus was successfully able to do so.  However, the true star of the class that day turned out to be Harry.  Over the summer, once Harry successfully managed to turn a hard wooden chair into the squishiest sofa imaginable, he ended up being a little (actually a lot) enthusiastic about the potentials of Transfiguration.  By the time the end of August had arrived, Callidus was fairly certain that nothing in their chambers were what they originally were.  The desks were former chairs.  The blankets were former bedposts.  The rug was a former log from the fire.  The tapestries used to be sheets of parchment.  When something interested Harry, he certainly went all out.

 

Following Transfigurations was Charms, where most of the students spent the class asking Professor Flitwick whether or not the duelling club would be reinstated.  Mostly, Flitwick appeared to be rather flustered and giddy that his club had been so popular, and the already cheerful professor was as bubbly as a bottle of soda (that someone had energetically shaken.)

 

 “What’ve we got this afternoon?” Harry asked as the trio made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch.  Though Draco did not seem as melancholy as before, he was much quieter than usual, and Harry seemed to feel the need to fill in the gaps.

 

 “Herbology and then Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Callidus answered.  “I’m not feeling hopeful about Defence.”

 

Harry hummed.  “Maybe he could teach us how to protect ourselves from bad hair days.”

 

 “If that were the case, they could have just hired Draco and saved themselves the trouble.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes  “Ha, ha.  How witty of you to reuse the same tired jokes.  You certainly seem to like to reference my appearance an awful lot.  Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that envy isn’t a good look, Callidus?”

 

Callidus just smirked in reply.  He’d much rather deal with Draco’s quips and insults, than Draco’s moodiness.  As fun as it might be to make fun of the blond, Callidus didn’t want him to be genuinely  _ miserable. _  After they finished eating they were on their way out to the Quad to enjoy the late summer sun when the passed by Hermione, sitting alone in one of the courtyards, reading Lockhart’s  _ Voyages with Vampires _ .  

 

 “Oh, Hi, Hermione!” Harry greeted brightly.  It was unusual to see Hermione outside of the library.  

 

Hermione looked up from her book, startled.  She had evidently been engrossed by whatever drivel Lockhart had written.  “Oh, hello Harry, Callidus, Draco.  I didn’t see you there.”

 

Callidus and Draco replied with polite nods, though Callidus’s smile was warm.

 

 “I was just re-reading Professor Lockhart’s book.  He’s amazing!” Hermione gushed.  “Callidus, have you read it yet?”

 

Callidus winced.  “Unfortunately, yes.”

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Before Callidus could answer, they were interrupted by the appearance of a small boy with mousy hair that none of the trio recognized.  The boy was holding what looked to be a muggle camera, and he seemed to have no concept of other people’s personal space.  All eyes of the group turned to the small boy, and his face turned a bright red, but the boy’s attention was fixed solely on Harry.

 

 "All right, Harry? I'm - I'm Colin Creevey," the boy’s words were rather breathless. "I'm not in Slytherin like you are, so you might not’ve noticed me before. D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" His expression was hopeful as he raised his camera.

 

 "A picture?" Harry repeated blankly. 

 

 "So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead -" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "- and a lot of people seem to think that now that you’re a Slytherin, it means you’re a Dark Wizard, but I’ve been watching you and I don’t believe them.”

 

 “Hey -” Draco cut in, “just - stop right there.  Who are you?”

 

 “Colin Creevey.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes.  “I mean  _ Who _ are you.”

 

Creevey looked from face to face, confused. “Well, my dad’s a milkman, and neither of us knew about Hogwarts till I got the letter so -”

 

Draco interrupted him.  “I see.  And what makes you think you can just walk up to us and - what?  Demand a picture?  Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

 

 “Draco -” Harry edged in warningly, but Draco lifted a hand to shut him up.

 

 “No, listen Harry.  You wanted me for your spokesperson, which is what I’m doing.  Do you think I’m going to let a little no-name snot just walk all over you, asking for your picture?  Next, he’s probably going to ask you to sign it, and then what?  Bring all his little snot-nosed friends?  Is that what you want, Harry?  Is it?”

 

 “Well - no,” Harry admitted, shuffling his feet.  

 

Callidus couldn’t help but feel a rush of admiration for Draco.  The blond had always seemed so self-absorbed, but it seemed that he cared about Harry’s interests after all.  Besides, Draco was right.  Harry was far too nice, and fame was a fickle mistress.  People might look up to Harry one moment, but they would be all too ready to turn against him in the next, and Callidus had the feeling that Harry would be too soft-hearted to be able to deal with that kind of thing.  On the other hand, who better to manage Harry’s fame than someone as insensitive as Draco?  It might seem harsh to crush people like Creevey, but it was probably necessary.

 

Creevey was looking increasingly nervous, and had even hidden his camera behind his back.  Draco seemed to have gathered his full arsenal of haughtiness, and he was now unleashing it on the hapless boy.  They had even appeared to have drawn a crowd.  Callidus caught sight of Caiside, and next to her, Ginny Weasley, who were watching the scene with interest. 

 

 “Well?” Draco looked down at Creevey disdainfully.  But before Creevey could answer, a familiar voice called out: “What’s all this?  Did I hear something about pictures?”

 

The crowd parted, to reveal Gilderoy Lockhart.  The Defence Professor strode onto the scene, his vibrant-coloured robes billowing artfully in the breeze.

 

 “Oh ho!  What’s this?” Lockhart’s gazed fixed upon Harry, like a beagle who had caught wind of it’s prey.  “Why, if it isn’t Harry Potter!  I had heard that you’d be here at Hogwarts!  And you’re letting your photo be taken, are you?”  Lockhart made his way to Harry’s side, throwing an arm around the raven-haired boy’s shoulder.  Harry looked too stunned by this invasion of his space to protest.

 

 “Wait just a second,” Draco attempted to interject, but Lockhart completely ignored him, causing Draco to flush an angry shade of pink.

 

 “Who has the camera?” Lockhart scanned the milling crowd.  “Ah, Mr. Creevey!  A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you." 

 

Creevey, who was still a little shaken by Draco’s demeanour, fumbled for his camera, but managed to snap a photo, just as the bell that indicated the end of their lunch break rang.

 

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with a horrified-looking Harry trapped in the cage of his arm.

 

Callidus and Draco attempted to follow along through the corridor, and up a staircase, and they were able to hear snatches of Lockhart’s rather condescending sounding advice.  It was something about how Harry might come across as big-headed - as if Lockhart were one to talk!  Lockhart did not release Harry until they had reached his classroom, and by that point, Harry was red-faced and his expression was stormy.  Unfortunately, their next class was supposed to be Herbology, not Defence, so the trio had to double back and make their way down to the greenhouses.

 

 “What was that all about?” Draco demanded, as they ran across the lawn, hoping that they would not be too late.

 

 “I don’t know,” Harry replied, a bit breathlessly.  “But you know how I said I didn’t want to our pranks to target a single person, Cal?”

 

 “Yeah?  What about it?” Callidus asked between heavy breaths, as just as the greenhouse entrance came into sight.

 

 “Well, I’ve changed my mind,” Harry explained, his eyes unusually hard and cold.  “Lockhart.  We’re going to take him  _ down _ .”

 

Callidus and Draco shared a look over Harry’s shoulders.  Lockhart was going to be the new target for their pranks?  They broke into matching grins.  This was going to be awesome.

 

The trio ended up being a few minutes late for Herbology, but Professor Sprout had always been an extremely forgiving teacher, so they did not lose any points.  Their class was shared with the Ravenclaws, and they learned that they would be repotting mandrake roots.  Though the trio had hoped to be able to spend the class plotting how they would prank Lockhart, mandrake roots had a fatal ‘cry’ which meant that that they spent the class in earmuffs.

 

Finally, Herbology was over, and their final class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

 

 “So what are we going to do to Lockhart?” Draco asked as the trio walked from the greenhouses towards Lockhart’s classroom.

 

 “We already know a decent amount of spells,” Harry mused. “Pimple hexes, hair-colour changing spells, flatulence hexes, voice changing spells.  What would be the most humiliating?”

 

 “How are we even going to hex him in the first place?” Callidus wondered.  “Without getting caught, that is.”

 

 “We’ll figure something out,” Harry answered coldly.  “I just want him to suffer.”

 

Though the whole concept was amusing, something about Harry’s words sent a shiver down Callidus’s spine.  He looked over at his friend, and for some reason, he thought about those odd nights when Harry would moan and thrash in his sleep, wearing an angry expression on his face.  If he used his magical sensing now, would he feel that strange, hostile sensation?  Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a way to use his powers in a way that would look subtle, rather than blatantly weird and obvious.

 

They arrived at the Defence classroom and chose to sit somewhere near the back of the class so that they could more easily plot against Lockhart.  Curiously enough, Lockhart was looking rather breathless and ruffled, and his wavy hair was slightly mussed.

 

Lockhart began to introduce himself, sounding a little uncertain, but as he progressed, he became increasingly confident, until he was rattling off a list of all his accomplishments without a trace of irony.  By the time he was finished his speech, his chest was puffed out and he was beaming broadly, acting as though it had been the class giving him accolades as opposed to being aware of the braggart that he was.  How had the man ever managed to be awarded an Order of Merlin?

 

 “I’m pleased to see that you’ve all purchased the complete set of my books,” Lockhart continued.  “Now just like with all my other classes, I’m going to be starting you off with a little quiz.  No pressure of course!  But it’s important to see how much your bright little minds have absorbed - how much you’ve taken in.”

 

Lockhart began to hand out the quizzes, and as the trio looked down the list of questions, they were shocked to see that they were all personal questions related to Lockhart himself.  In retrospect, they really shouldn’t have been shocked at all.  They shared impish glances as they simultaneously decided to write answers that would be as humiliating as possible.

 

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?



 

Harry wrote: _ To stop wetting his bed at night _

 

  1. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? 



 

Callidus wrote:  _ That he can fool people into thinking he has any braincells to rub together, so long as he keeps his mouth shut _

 

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite past time?



 

Draco wrote:  _ Seducing himself in front of the mirror _

 

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite food?



 

Callidus wrote:  _ Insincere compliments.  It would be unrealistic to expect sincere ones. _

 

Callidus knew that he and his friends/brothers were risking detention with their juvenile actions, but he decided that it would be worth it.  Gilderoy Lockhart was obviously a joke.  Why should Callidus bother to take him seriously?  Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the quizzes and was reading them over.  The trio smirked when a few of the quizzes caused Lockhart to flush with embarrassment.  Amusingly, Lockhart did not call them out for their actions.

 

 “I’m rather disappointed by the performance on your quizzes,” Lockhart said, sounding a bit shaken.  “In Gryffindor, a Hermione Granger managed to receive a hundred percent on her quiz.  That said, Daphne Greengrass, well done on receiving the highest mark in your class.”

 

Upon seeing Greengrass’s pleased smile and her gratitude for his attention, Lockhart’s confidence once again increased.  Callidus gave the professor an incredulous look.  The man must have had the emotional fortitude of a troll - no matter how many barbs one tried to fling at him, they just bounced off his tough skin.

 

Lockhart proceeded to bring the class’s attention to a large covered cage on his desk.

 

 “Now, in my previous class, I had the class face a challenge that was nearly too much for them to bear.  I was debating letting your class off easy - after all, if the brave Gryffindors couldn’t handle the challenge, what hope would there be for any of the other classes?”  Lockhart’s words were surprisingly inflammatory.  Callidus could not tell if it was intentional or not, but to claim that the Slytherins were somehow less capable of handling a challenge than Gryffindors immediately caused the hackles of the Slytherins to rise.

 

Apparently oblivious, Lockhart continued to explain.  “But then, I reminded myself that that I am here to teach you to protect yourself against the greatest of dangers, and the foulest of creatures.  It is my sworn duty as a professor to bring you face to face with the deepest of your fears, knowing that only I can give you the strength and skills to face the Darkest of your nightmares.  Rest assured that so long as I am here, I shan’t let any harm befall you.  There’s no need to panic - not while I’m here to protect you.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows at the speech.  A number of the girls were looking a bit nervous, except for Bulstrode, whose eyes gleamed with an inner fire that spoke of a readiness for battle.  Draco looked as though he was growing curious against his will, while Zabini looked bored, and Nott was preoccupied with reading the textbook and disregarding everything around him.

 

 “Now is your chance to prove yourself better than the Gryffindors,” Lockhart announced.  “Try and resist the urge to cry out or scream, lest you provoke them.  Look boldly now upon the face of your opponents!”

 

Lockhart dramatically pulled the cover off of the cage, just as he declared: “Cornish pixies!”  The result was anti-climactic.  

 

 “Pixies?!” Greengrass screeched, eyeing the electric blue creatures and suddenly worrying that they would get in her hair.  “What are we supposed to do with them?”

 

 “Well, you just have to prove yourself as proficient as the students in the last class!” Lockhart answered cheerfully.  A few of the students asked more questions.

 

Meanwhile the trio shared a look.  They ducked their heads together and began to whisper.

 

 “If he lets those things free, it might give us the perfect chance,” Harry mused.

 

 “We can aim our hexes at him while pretending to hit the pixies,” Draco suggested.  “Though what he was thinking, bringing pixies in, I’ll never begin to guess.  They may be small, but they’re destructive and  _ fast _ .”

 

Callidus smirked.  “The more chaos, the better.”

 

The trio looked back up towards Lockhart, just as he opened the cage door.  Though the Cornish pixies had been released and caught by the Gryffindors earlier, they had as much wild energy as ever, and within seconds, the class was in complete disarray.   The pixies were smashing windows, and throwing papers and quills across the room, and tearing up books, and working together to up-end chairs and desks.  

 

While the other second year Slytherins frantically shot spells at the pixies, the trio aimed for Lockhart. 

 

A beam of light caused his golden blond hair to vanish, leaving a shiny bald scalp, and causing Lockhart to yelp.  Another bright beam resulted in the most enormous pimple imaginable, appearing right on the tip of his nose.  A final darker light seemed to have no effect, but Callidus smiled a wicked smile.  The result of that spell might not show up right away, but it was just a matter of time.

 

Lockhart was exclaiming: “Get the pixies, not me!  Oh Merlin, my hair!  I can’t be seen like this.”  He did not even bother to give the class further instruction - he simply dashed out of the room, with his hands desperately covering his head.

 

With Lockhart’s absence, the class was thrown into further chaos.  Lockhart hadn’t given them instructions about what to do, and it wasn’t in any Slytherin’s nature to clean up another person’s mess unless they could get something out of it.  So, all the Slytherins quickly gathered up belongings, and fled the room, unconcerned with the chaos and damaged caused by the pixies.  Let someone else deal with the problem.

 

Outside of the classroom, the trio were all wearing matching grins spread from ear to ear.  

 

 “That was awesome!” Harry burst out, his expression a mix of triumph and righteous revenge.

 

 “I can’t believe it all worked out so perfectly,” Draco added.  “Think he’ll be able to show his face ever again?

 

 “He wouldn’t skip teaching classes, would he?” Harry pondered.

 

Callidus considered the professor’s character thoughtfully.  “Somehow, I get the impression that he values his ego and appearance far above our education.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “I wouldn’t complain if we never had to see him again.  Considering that he dared to -” Harry expression had darkened considerably.  “Anyhow, maybe we’d be doing the school a favour by getting rid of him.”

 

Draco looked intrigued, but Callidus gave Harry a questioning look.  Since when was Harry so vindictive?  It was a bit unnerving.  But he would hardly complain if Lockhart was gone.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrow.  “So we’re going to continue our campaign of pranks against him?”

  
Harry smiled cruelly and Callidus shivered.  “He won’t get a moment’s rest.  Not if I can help it.”


	8. Chapter 8

If Callidus had thought that this new, darker streak of Harry’s would carry into all aspects of their life at Hogwarts, Callidus was wrong.  The following day, Harry seemed to be his normal self, without any trace of true malice or cruelty in his words or actions.  But then again, they didn’t have a class with Lockhart that day.

 

Draco’s homesickness was a little less sharp, and the blond had resumed his typical chattiness.  Since they had spent most of August apart, Draco had wanted to contribute his own prank ideas, aside from the terror that they were planning to rain upon Lockhart’s head.  As the trio made their way upstairs to breakfast, Harry had mentioned his idea to create prank items, such as the friendly-bomb, that would immediately make anyone in its vicinity act friendly.

 

Draco’s expression was perplexed  “What would be funny about that?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I dunno.  It might be useful.  What if we’re facing someone who’s really angry?  Or someone like Quirrell who was trying to kill us last year?”

 

 “But that doesn’t exactly make it a prank then, does it?  More like just a self-defence item, and not necessarily an effective one at that.  If we’re going to make these so-called gaseous bombs, then they should really do something  _ more _ .  Something powerful.”  Draco’s face lit up with an idea.  “What about a bomb that makes people feel afraid?  Could you imagine?  We could turn those so-called courageous lions into pant-pissing cowards.”

 

Harry looked doubtful.  “Erm - that seems a bit - harsh, don’t you think?”

 

 “Or maybe, we could make a bomb that turns people’s bones into a jelly.” Draco’s enthusiasm only seemed to be increasing.  “Ha!  Just imagine them wiggling about like flobberworms.”

 

 “That - erm - wouldn’t that be - maybe - harmful or illegal?”

 

 “Or a bomb that makes people spill their deepest, darkest secrets!,” Draco continued.  “We would have so much blackmail material!  Think of how many people we could humiliate!  And if it’s a bomb, people wouldn’t see it coming!”

 

 “Okay, Draco, I’m pretty sure that would be illegal.”

 

 “These ideas are all still theoretical anyway,” Callidus cut in.  “We don’t even know if potions can be administered through inhalation.”

 

 “Well then you need to get working on it!” Draco insisted.

 

Callidus rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother to answer.  They had reached the Great Hall, and it wasn’t the sort of topic that he wanted to discuss in front of other students.

 

Most of the girls were already seated, and to Callidus’s relief, they were finally discussing matters other than Lockhart.  Callidus had never been so grateful to hear about who had been having summer romances with who at the breakfast table (“and can you believe that Jhanvi Bhati managed get away with dating two boys at once?  They found out about one another at an Avery garden party, and in the ensuing fight, one of them got turned into a opossum while the other had their limbs replaced with asparagus.  And since then, they’ve both been writing her the most appalling poetry, trying to win her heart.  I think she tried to rejected them both but they won’t leave her alone.  I heard she’s been having nightmares about iambic pentameter and poorly thought out metaphors.”)

 

For the most part, Callidus tuned out the gossip, focusing on his bacon and toast instead.  By the time everyone knew about a piece of information, it was often useless, although it could be interesting to learn about who was being ostracised and whose popularity was on the rise.  But these were matters of power dynamics, and it was important for every Slytherin to be aware of them.

 

 “I heard the Hufflepuffs talking about this, and who knows if  _ they _ can be trusted with valid gossip, but apparently Professor Lockhart is having a bit of a spider problem,” Parkinson remarked.

 

 “Eww!” Greengrass squealed.  “That’s horrible!  Tell me it isn’t true!”

 

 “I’d squish the spiders for him, if he was having a problem,” Bulstrode declared.  “Every last one.”

 

Callidus did his best to keep his expression neutral, but inside, he was smiling.  The spell he had cast at Lockhart yesterday had been effective, it seemed.  All the spiders in Hogwarts should be finding themselves inexplicably drawn towards the Defence Professor.  Hopefully Lockhart did not have arachnophobia (Callidus thought this rather insincerely.)  The girls only had a short moment to share their dismay over Lockhart’s plight before it was time to make their way to their first class.

 

History of Magic was exactly what they expected: mind-numbingly boring.  Callidus knew that Hermione stayed awake and took notes during Professor Binns’ soporific lectures, and he could not help but respect her for it.  Draco was already asleep, a thin line of drool slowly pooling on the sleeve of his robes where his head rested.  Harry’s head kept tipping to the side, before he’d jerk himself straight up, only to have his head slowly tip back down.  Callidus had chosen to focus on reading his textbook.  He cared a great deal about his academic performance, but had washed his hands of any hope that he’d excel in History.  The effort simply did not seem to be worth it.

 

The final class of the day was Potions with Professor Slughorn.  With Callidus’s already advanced understanding of potions, the class was, unsurprisingly, excessively easy.  He used most of the class time, to jot down notes for future potions ideas that he wished to explore, or helping Harry with anything that the other boy did not understand.  But Callidus had reasons for wanting to be in class this day.  He wished to speak to his Head of House about continuing his independent Potions study.

 

Callidus was strongly motivated to learn everything he could about potions - he wanted to gain his Potions Mastery after all (and it was his goal to gain that mastery at a younger age than he had managed the first time around.)  But there was another reason that Callidus wanted to be able to independently work on potions: he liked having access to his own lab.  Last term, Callidus had gained an excellent source of income by using his lab to make potions for the other Slytherins.  He had hoped that he would be able to continue his little enterprise this year.  It was simply too lucrative of an opportunity to resist.  But even without the underground potions business, he was still making money on the Poison-countermeasure Potion that he had patented the previous term.

 

When the class was finally over, and the students were tidying up the messes on their table and handing in their phials, Callidus informed Harry and Draco to go on ahead without him, since he needed to speak to Slughorn.

 

 “Callidus, m’boy!” Slughorn boomed jovially, his silver walrus-like whiskers twitching above his wide smile.  “How have you been?  What amazing new accomplishments can we expect from you this year?  Do you have another new potions in the works?  A hypothesis you plan to prove or disprove?  Exciting projects on the horizon?”

 

 “That’s what I wished to discuss with you today, sir,” Callidus informed him, forcing his lips into a friendly smile.

 

Slughorn’s gooseberry coloured eyes sparkled.  “Oh?”

 

 “I would like to continue the mentorship.”  Callidus’s voice was quiet and modest, in a way that he knew would stroke Slughorn’s ego.  The man’s desire to ‘cultivate’ connections and talented individuals made him far too easy to manipulate.  “As I am sure you know, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything last year without you.  Having the lab at my disposal, and being able to pursue independent projects has enabled me to get as far as I have.  I was wondering -”

 

 “I can guess exactly what it is you’re wondering, m’boy,” Slughorn cut in, looking immensely pleased.  “And it would be my pleasure to continue mentoring such a brilliant mind as your own.”

 

 “Thank you, sir!” Callidus’s smile was genuine this time.  “Will you be assigning another student to oversee my activities?  I believe that I am responsible and careful enough to avoid any serious mishaps in the lab, however, I will defer to your judgement in this, since you would know best.”

 

 “Ah, I trust you Callidus,” Slughorn answered.  “A clever boy like you would never make an elementary mistake like adding porcupine quills when the cauldron is still on the fire, would you?”

 

Callidus felt almost offended.  “Naturally, not.” 

 

Slughorn patted Callidus’s back in an overly friendly manner. “Then it seems we have come to an agreement.  You may use Potions Lab Nine again.  If ever you have need of me, please do come by my office on the sixth floor corridor.”

 

 “Of course, sir.”

 

 “So tell me,” Slughorn’s voice became conspiratorial as he leaned inwards.  “What projects  _ do _ you have planned this year, hm?  Going to take the academic world by storm?”

 

 “Ah, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise sir,” Callidus hedged.  He might have had a lot of ideas, but having the idea wasn’t the same as being near a breakthrough.  While he had high hopes for himself, there was no need to get ahead of himself, or get Slughorn worked up.

 

Slughorn looked slightly disappointed.  “Of course, of course, m’boy.  I know how it is.”

 

Eventually, Callidus managed to peel himself away from Slughorn’s grip, before the old man started reliving his own glory days, or talking about his numerous acquaintances.  Callidus couldn’t help but think that maybe the man was a tad bit lonely, but Callidus wasn’t eager to fill the role of being Slughorn’s friend.

 

When Callidus returned to the Slytherin common room, the second-years were gathered in their usual spot.  Draco was sprawled out on the sofa, his legs resting on Parkinson’s lap.  Harry was sitting next to her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.  Zabini and Greengrass were situated across from them, and Nott was in one of the other chairs, engrossed in a book.  Davis and Bulstrode were sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with Bulstrode’s cat.

 

 “Cal!” Harry called out.  “Finished with old Sluggy?  What did he say?”

 

Callidus let his lips quirk upwards.  “He has allowed me to continue my mentorship, and has granted me access to the same lab.”  Callidus did not speak loudly, but his words were loud enough that most students in the vicinity would have heard if they happened to be listening.  It was a way of letting everyone know that he was accepting commissions for his underground potions business.

 

 “Awesome!” Harry replied.  “Then we shall have many things to speak of later.”

 

It took an effort for Callidus not to roll his eyes.  He knew Harry was referring to their prank projects, but Harry’s attempts at subtlety were anything but.  Still, Callidus knew that the Slytherins would likely never betray their own to the rest of the school.

 

Over the summer, Callidus had already scoured the library, looking for books related to vapourizing or inhaling potions.  There was a notable absence of any useful information.  He only managed to find one or two historical references, mentioning that vapourizing potions was risky, and that managing dosages was unpredictable.  In one case, a potioneer had even ended up nearly dying when his vapourized potion caused him to fall asleep for days, while no one checked up on him.  As far as Callidus could tell, most Potions Masters of the past did not think that it was a worthwhile endeavour to pursue.  But beyond just pranks, Callidus was convinced that the idea had merit.

 

First, he’d have to figure out the best method to vapourize potions in the first place, without letting the effects of the magic alter the effects of the potion.  Then, he’d have to decide on a potion to inhale, that offered the lowest risk of dangerous overdosing.  Perhaps it might be best to experiment on rats rather than himself or his friends.

 

That evening, in the relative privacy of their dorm, the trio gathered on Harry’s bed to discuss their plans, now that Callidus had secured the lab for yet another year.  None of them had learned any particularly effective privacy spells, except for one that warned them with a loud noise if anyone was trying to listen in.  So, they kept their voices hushed as they spoke.

 

 “So we’re going to go ahead with this gas-bomb project?” Harry queried.

 

Callidus nodded.  “I’m going to attempt it, at least.  It really is unfortunate that there’s so little literature on the subject.  I suppose that if I can make headway on it, it will be advantageous to my academic reputation.  Something like this might even be worth publishing in a journal, if I succeed.”

 

 “Who cares about that!” Draco interjected unhelpfully.  “What matters is that we can get the prank to work.”

 

Callidus’s expression was incredulous.  “Yes, because a prank is so much more important than the magical advancement of our society.”

 

Draco did not seem to catch the sarcasm, and Callidus sighed.  “As of yet, we still do not know how viable this whole idea is,” Callidus continued to explain.  “Having the lab helps, but a great deal of research will need to be done.  I wouldn’t necessarily get your hopes up too high about this.”

 

Harry hummed.  “You know, I think I know of a book that might help you.”

 

Callidus glanced at Harry with surprise.  “Oh?”

 

Harry huffed.  “What’s with that look?  I read books, you know!  What?  I do!  Actually, it was a book I found when I was looking up spells to learn for pranking.  I’ll find it for you in the library tomorrow.  It was all about using different spells to change the state of matter - turning liquids into solids, or solids into gas, or gas into liquids - that kinda thing.”

 

 “Hm.  I don’t believe I’ve come across that particular book before.  It sounds extremely helpful.  Thank you Harry.”

 

Harry grinned.  “What are brothers for?  Besides, we can’t let you do  _ all _ the work for our pranks.”

 

 “He doesn’t do  _ all _ the work,” Draco sputtered.  “We’re the ones risking life and limb to actually  _ apply _ the pranks.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t recall my limbs ever being at risk for a prank.  Or my life for that matter.”

 

 “Not with me to watch your back!” Draco defended.

  
Harry hummed, but then smiled knowingly.  “If you say so, Draco.”


	9. Chapter 9

The trio soon fell into the the routine of school in the following days.  There were a couple of nights when Harry moaned and thrashed in his bed, but it wasn’t loud enough to wake the other Slytherins, and in the morning, Harry never acted particularly troubled.  He did sometimes furrow his brow in the mornings, and mutter something about needing to find a secret chamber, but then the matter would be soon forgotten amidst lessons, and friendship and tormenting and increasingly frazzled Professor Lockhart.

 

Before they knew it, Quidditch tryouts were upon them, and Harry and Draco were bundles of irrepressible excitement.  Though all the Slytherins knew that Marcus Flint was a sadistic slave-driver of a Quidditch captain, that did not make the younger students any less eager to try out for the team.  Draco seemed to vacillate between a state of eye-gougingly obnoxious bravado and ‘what if they somehow accidently don’t see what a good flyer I am’ mental breakdowns of self-doubt.  Meanwhile, Harry was sunny-natured, and was, as he put it: ‘just happy about the chance to fly around for a bit.’

 

Callidus did not particularly care either way.  On one hand, he did genuinely want the Slytherin team to do well, because frankly, they deserved to win the Quidditch Cup and House Cup every year, as far as he was concerned.  On the other hand, Draco would be intolerable if he did not get onto the team.  Callidus really hoped Draco would get onto the team.

 

On the day of the tryouts, Callidus found himself debating whether or not to go and watch.  He knew it would be the supportive thing to do for his friends.  But then again, he could go to the potions lab instead and try and make headway on vapourizing some Pepper-Up Potion.  The book that Harry had suggested to Callidus had proved to be a great help, but now it was just a matter of finding the right spell that would have a minimal impact on the magic of the potion.  In this regard, Callidus’s magical sensitivity abilities helped a great deal.

 

In the end, Callidus elected to go out to the Quidditch pitch to watch his friends try to get on the team.  He had heard that Marcus Flint had a talent making people cry, and what better form of entertainment could there be, than to watch a bunch of students getting their dreams of being Quidditch stars crushed?  There was nothing quite as invigourating as the utter humiliation of a bunch of starry-eyed imbeciles.

 

With a smile of anticipation tugging Callidus’s lips upwards, he followed Harry and Draco out to the Quidditch pitch, taking a seat on the nearby stands.  Before Flint had the students starting on drills, Callidus noticed that Draco had pulled the Quidditch captain aside, and was speaking to him in hushed tones.  Whatever Draco was saying, the blond did not look deferential or nervous.  If anything, Callidus almost thought that Draco was acting rather sly.  Did his friend/brother have something up his sleeve that he hadn’t mentioned earlier?  Flint’s expression was speculative as he looked down on Draco.  And was that a look of greed that Callidus saw in his eyes?  It was too bad Harry hadn’t been paying attention to the scene.  The raven-haired boy was already on one of the school brooms, doing reckless barrel-rolls without being prompted to.

 

The tryouts ended up being more or less what Callidus expected.  Flint seemed to go suspiciously easy on Draco, but Harry managed to fly well enough to impress the Slytherin Captain.  Flint also managed to make no less than five hopeful players cry, and one person even ended up breaking their arm when a bludger bashed into it.  Harry earned himself the position of seeker for the Slytherin team.  Meanwhile, Draco was made a chaser.  Both boys were in extremely high spirits, and Callidus had to spend the rest of the day subjected to the minutia of Quidditch maneuvers.

 

Callidus was happy for both of his friends’/brothers’ success, until the grueling Quidditch practice sessions started, and Callidus began to realize just how much of his friends’ time would be eaten up.  In first year, he had often felt as though Harry and Draco were close in a way that he wasn’t - especially since Draco was so selfish that he never hesitated to monopolize Harry’s time and attention.  Callidus had spent a great deal of time in the library or potions lab, in part because he enjoyed learning, but also, as a way to convince himself that he was just the solitary type and that it was no big deal to be separate from the other two boys.  Then, over time, their bond had gotten stronger, and he felt as though he were truly a part of the trio.  

 

But now, with Harry and Draco on the Quidditch team, the two boys once again had something bonding them closer together - something that Callidus wasn’t a part of.  Callidus hadn’t fully considered the implications of what it meant for him, with his friends/brothers on the Quidditch team.  Now that he was aware, he felt a rising jealousy within him, mingled with guilt for his selfishness.

 

What made it worse was that Harry and Draco appeared to be completely oblivious about the whole matter.  They had become even more engrossed with flying and Quidditch than ever, that they hardly noticed that they were excluding Callidus in their conversations.  After all, they still spent most of their free time together, so the external impression of unity still remained, even if Callidus was feeling as though he was being left behind, like a beetle that had befriended caterpillars only to see them transform into butterflies.

 

Callidus had tried to steer their conversation towards other topics numerous times.  But in the end, Harry and Draco seemed to gravitate back towards long and excruciatingly detailed Quidditch debates.  Their talks of various formations and maneuvers started to sound like a foreign language at some point, and Callidus started to retreat to his mind more and more, planning out potions in his head.

 

But Callidus was aware that Harry and Draco weren’t his only friends, even if they were his closest.  There was also Hermione as well.  Thinking of Hermione reminded him that he hadn’t been spending quite as much time in the library as last year, and he really needed to focus his efforts if he wanted to be able to match (and surpass) Hermione’s academic performance.  Since when had he started doing his homework and studying in the Slytherin dungeons instead of the library?  It would be nice to see the Gryffindor girl, and finally have a discussion that wasn’t in any way related to Quidditch.

 

It was an afternoon in which the Slytherin team would be busy with Quidditch practice, so after their final class of the day which was Transfigurations (in which Harry was proud to be the first to change his centipede into a necklace), Callidus picked up his book bag and made his way to the library.  He searched the various tables for a familiar head of bushy brown hair, and to his surprise, he saw that Hermione wasn’t alone.  She was sharing a table with two other familiar girls: Caiside and Ginny Weasley. 

 

For a moment, Callidus wondered if he would be intruding.  He debated turning around, and returning to the dungeons, but then, Hermione happened to look up, and when she spotted him, she smiled and waved.  Feeling vaguely sheepish, Callidus ventured over to the table. At this point, Caiside and Ginny Weasley had seen him as well.  Caiside arched her eyebrows at him, an amused smile pulling at her lips, while Ginny Weasley wore an expression of open curiosity.

 

 “Hello Callidus!” Hermione welcomed brightly.  “Here to study?  You can sit with us.”

 

 “Hello Hermione, Caiside, Weasley.” Callidus sat in the open seat next to Hermione and across from Caiside.

 

 “You can call me Ginny,” the red-head chirped.  “It’d be rather odd to call me by my last name when you call Hermione and Caiside by their first, wouldn’t it.”

 

 “Callidus,” Caiside murmured, her expression almost sly.  “Hermione mentioned that you were friends, and I confess, I almost didn’t believe her, seeing as I’ve never really seen you associate with one another, aside from that rather - amusing encounter with poor Colin Creevey in the courtyard.”

 

 “You doubted Hermione’s word?  Since when has she ever spoken anything other than a true fact?” Callidus rejoined.

 

Caiside smirked.  “Yes, I’m learning that now.  I never realized until now, how refreshing straight-forward honesty could be.  Most other people are all too happy to deceive themselves.  Or others.”

 

 “Caiside was telling me about how you were staying with her over the summer,” Hermione informed him. 

 

Callidus glanced from Hermione to Caiside.  “Was she now?” 

 

 “Mm hmm.  It sounds like you had a lovely summer,” Hermione continued. “And you got to see Caiside’s garden.  She’s quite the herbologist - I’ve learned a lot!.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Yes, I may have survived the garden of torture and death.”

 

 “Only thanks to my protection,” Caiside remarked cheekily.

 

 “Yes, it was a harrowing experience,” Callidus deadpanned.

 

 “You’re friends with Harry Potter,” Ginny interjected.

 

Callidus looked over at the red-head, startled by the sudden shift in the conversation.  “I am.”

 

 “Will you tell me about him?” Ginny asked, her light brown eyes bright and eager. 

 

Callidus blinked, surprised by the girl’s forwardness.  Hadn’t she been the one to hide behind the displays at Gambol and Japes?  He had expected her to be extremely shy and reticent.  The girl before him didn’t look as if she had a trace of shyness - instead, she was leaning towards him, meeting his eyes easily and wearing a very expectant expression.

 

 “Don’t mind her.” Caiside made a casual brushing off gesture.  “All she ever wants to talk about is Harry.  She’s already found out all she could from Hermione and now she’s hoping to squeeze more information out of you.”

 

Ginny’s expression became mulish.  “Harry’s a hero.  Why wouldn’t I want to hear all about him?  Besides, no one ever expected him to end up in Slytherin.  It’s all so rom-” Ginny’s cheeks flamed when she realized that she had almost said too much.

 

Caiside’s expression became wry.  “She seems to think he’s some sort of tortured hero.  The  _ dark _ and  _ mysterious _ Slytherin Harry Potter.”

 

 “I don’t think anything of the sort!” Ginny protested.  “But there  _ must _ be something more to him than meets the eye if he ended up in Slytherin.” She turned to Callidus.  “Is it true that he made the Slytherin Quidditch team?”

 

Callidus could feel a vein begin to pulse in his forehead.  “Say one word more about  _ anything _ related to Quidditch, and I swear I’ll never tell you a single thing about Harry, and neither will anyone else,” he snapped.

 

Ginny’s eyes widened, and she blinked at him rather comically.  “Er - oh - kay.”

 

 “And yes, he made the team, and that’s all I’ll say about that,” Callidus added sharply.

 

 “So what brings you here?” Caiside queried.  “And without your two bosom buddies.”

 

Callidus gave Caiside a disbelieving look.  “Bosom.  Buddies.”

 

Caiside grinned wickedly.  “Isn’t that what they are?”

 

 “I’m still trying to process the fact that that phrase actually came out of your mouth.”

 

Somehow, Caiside’s grin widened even further.  “It’s a perfectly apt little phrase.”

 

 “And they are, aren’t they?” Hermione asked.  “Your -” Callidus was already cringing and he could hear Ginny’s muffled laughs. “- bosom buddies?”

 

 “They’re my friends,” he answered, glaring at Caiside.  “As for what I’m doing here, I imagine my reasons are the same as the rest of the populace.  I’m here to study and read.  Harry and Draco are at practice, since you seem so eager to want to know the reasons for my solitary status.  But since we don’t seem to have moved past pleasantries, tell me Caiside, how did your mother take the news of your sorting into Gryffindor?”

 

Caiside chortled.  “Oh Merlin!  I’m so glad you asked.  Every reminder of my mother’s abject chagrin makes my ‘unfilial and unnatural’ heart flutter with glee.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows, an amused smile quirking his lips upwards.  “That good?”

 

 “Better!” Caiside crowed.  “You should see the letters she wrote me!  I could tell that she wanted to write a howler, but she doesn’t like to air our ‘private business’ to others.  Which is a shame, really - I think I would have enjoyed the added piquancy of hearing the shock and dismay in her voice.”

 

 “How can you speak of your mother that way?” Hermione asked.

 

Caiside shrugged.  “You’d understand if you met her, ‘Mione.  Though to be honest, she probably wouldn’t speak to you.  I told you she’s a massive bigot.”

 

 “Still, she’s your mother,” Hermione pointed out.  “You could try and educate her so she has a better understanding of why her prejudices are so wrong.”

 

Caiside made a humming sound.  “You know what, ‘Mione?  If you ever meet her, I’ll leave that to you.  You’d be able to explain  _ so much _ better than I ever could.”

 

 “Don’t do it, Hermione,” Callidus warned, wondering how Caiside could bait her own friends like that.  “Just - imagine the Malfoys.  And then take away all the subtlety.”

 

 “Callidus!” Caiside mock reproached.  “I thought you  _ liked _ my mother!”

 

 “Madam Filodoxos is - well-meaning.  But I’m not blind or deaf, Caiside.  Even your father, as oblivious to the world as he might act, pretty much seems to think that muggles and muggleborns alike are completely unreasonable barbarians who’d as soon cart his only daughter off to some muggle lab to perform nefarious experiments on, followed by a good old fashioned burning-at-the-stake.”

 

 “They don’t  _ really _ believe that, do they?” Hermione questioned. “It’s beyond ridiculous!”

 

Callidus turned back to Hermione.  “Hmm.  I forget.  I suppose you’re fairly insulated from a great deal of the bigotry and prejudice since you’re in Gryffindor.  I might not be a muggle-lover, but even  _ I _ know that muggles don’t go around tying stones around witchs’ ankles and then tossing them in bodies of water to see if they float.  Which, I should add, people  _ do _ believe.”

 

 “But how can they still be so ignorant?” Hermione gasped.  “You’d think that after the last wizarding war, that people would take the time to fix the errors of their thinking, if only to prevent another war.”

 

 “An idealistic notion, but when it comes to muggles, no - they wouldn’t bother,” Callidus answered.  “If anything, it just gives people’s hatred time to fester.  Humans are simple-minded creatures.  They like having someone to blame.  Besides, fear sells, or have you not been reading the  _ Daily Prophet _ ?”

 

 “It’s irrational,” Hermione muttered mulishly. 

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I can’t argue that.”

 

 “What does Harry think?” Ginny wondered.

 

Callidus looked over at Ginny.  “About -”

 

 “Muggles and muggleborns, and stuff.”

 

 “Ah.  Thank you for that wonderfully clear and detailed elucidation of your question,” Callidus drawled.

 

 “Oh, shut up!” Ginny retorted.  “You know what I mean.”

 

Callidus arched a black eyebrow.  The red-head was certainly impertinent.  “He’s not prejudiced, if that’s what you’re asking.  And while he has suffered severe abuses at the hands of his muggle relatives, he’s always been rather forgiving.  Perhaps too forgiving.”

 

 “Oh.”  Ginny’s expression became contemplative, and a smile spread across her face.  Callidus had the horrible feeling that he had just somehow made the red-head’s infatuation with Harry even worse.

 

 “It just isn’t what I expected,” Hermione said pensively.

 

 “What isn’t?” Caiside questioned.

 

 “The wizarding world,” Hermione admitted.  “When I found out I was a witch, I thought -” she smiled wistfully, “- I thought things would be different.  I thought I finally found a place where I’d belong.  The bigotry - the bias - I wasn’t expecting these things.  I suppose I hoped that magic would make people more open-minded and understanding.”

 

 “Wizard and witches are still only human,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “I know,” Hermione sighed.  “I just hope things get better.  Perhaps if people were better educated -”

 

Callidus couldn’t help smiling.  Of course Hermione would think that education would be the answer to everything.  If only it were true.

 

Eventually, (after being shushed by Madam Pince,) the group of them turned their attention to their homework, studying together in a comfortable silence (though Hermione kindly answered any questions that Caiside or Ginny had for her.)  When Callidus finished the last of his essays, he stood up to leave, slinging his book bag across his shoulder.

 

 “You know, as a  _ friend _ , you should come by more often,” Caiside suggested.

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  “What are you trying to imply?”

 

Caiside shrugged casually.  “Just.  You know.  Friends  _ spend time _ with one another.  And not just when their  _ other _ friends are busy.”

 

 “Oh, just leave him be, Caiside,” Hermione scolded. 

 

Caiside looked over at Hermione before shrugging, as if she were indifferent to the whole matter.  “I’m just saying that one ought to enjoy the company of one’s friends.”

 

Callidus raised an eyebrow.  “Are we friends now, Caiside?”

 

Caiside’s expression mirrored his own.  “What makes you think I’m talking about myself?”

 

Callidus’s eyes darted over to Hermione, but the girl was studiously avoiding his eyes, though her cheeks were flushed pink.  He felt like something was going on - did the girls talk about him behind his back?  For some reason, the idea made him incredibly uneasy.  But there was no sense letting Caiside’s words get under his skin - she was just the sort of person who liked to rile people up.  Saying his good-byes to the Gryffindor girls, he made his way back to the Slytherin dungeons.


	10. Chapter 10

It was in late September when a dramatic headline in the  _ Daily Prophet  _ had all of Hogwarts talking.  Callidus was sitting with the other Slytherins in the Great Hall, when the owl post arrived, dropping mail, parcels and newspapers on the students’ hands, laps (or on their plates of food.)  Callidus himself did not subscribe to any newspapers, but Draco’s father had purchased him a subscription, and they always shared.  Callidus took an interest in the news, mostly because the current political environment seemed to be getting increasingly volatile.  He had the feeling that  _ something _ was happening, though whether it would amount to anything or not, he could not predict.  But most Slytherins tended to keep their eyes and ears open for change and possible opportunity.  It could mean changing fortunes after all.

 

He was absently eating his kippers, thinking about how he still had to test three more vapourizing spells in the potions lab, when he was aware that the buzz of conversation around him seemed to change and become more excited.  He straightened up, looking towards Parkinson questioningly.  If anything interesting was going on, she was usually the first to verbalize it.

 

 “Merlin,” he heard Parkinson exhale.

 

 “Let me see!” Greengrass demanded, pulling the newspaper away from Parkinson, who released it without a struggle.

 

 “What is it?” Harry queried, his expression concerned.

 

 “A new disease.  Confirmed by researchers at St. Mungo’s,” Parkinson explained, though her expression remained shocked.  “There’s been over ten cases in London alone since the summer.”  She looked up at Harry, her dark eyes filled with concern.  “They say it’s contagious.  That it makes victims act violently.”

 

 “But it’s only affect muggleborns - and one half-blood so far,” Draco pointed out.  He too had been reading the article.  He handed the paper towards Harry and Callidus.  “See for yourselves.”

 

Harry and Callidus held the newspaper between them, reading through article while around them, the other Slytherins speculated and worried.  As Draco had said, almost all the victims were muggleborns.  They all displayed the strange orange rash on their lower back.  And as of yet, there was no cure, and all the patients had been put into a magical stasis at St. Mungo’s.  The whole situation left a roiling sort of unease in Callidus’s gut.  Was it just coincidence that this disease was mostly striking muggleborns?  And if, indeed, muggleborns were particularly susceptible to the disease, what did it mean for wizarding culture?  With the tensions that already existed, how could the wizarding world hold itself together?  Not to mention the horrors of the disease itself.  Would Hogwarts be safe?

 

Callidus was pulled out of his thoughts when he realized the other Slytherins were talking about this very topic.  Some were wondering if they should return home - especially those that lived on large estates in the countryside.  Others were convinced that there was no place safer than Hogwarts, and did not think it was likely that the disease could affect the school.  Callidus peered over towards the Gryffindor table, curious to see the reactions of the lions.  Hermione looked pale, and was worrying her lower lip.  Ginny was making some sort of sympathetic gesture by rubbing her arm.  As for Caiside, her expression was pensive.  Callidus wondered what she was thinking about.  Caiside supported the cause of muggleborn acceptance (even if it was for rebellious reasons), but if she was worried, shouldn’t her reaction be more like Ginny’s?

 

Harry had opened the newspaper and was reading through some of the other articles, hoping to glean more information.

 

 “Oh - I didn’t realize that the Magical Child Protection Act has been passed,” Harry commented when his eyes fell on the article on the second page. 

 

Draco raised his eyebrows.  “Ah, yes, father mentioned in a letter that the wizengamot would be voting on it sometime this month, but I had forgotten the precise date.”  A small smile that didn’t reach his eyes pulled at the corner of his lips.  “I suppose that’s one bit of good news amidst all this mess.  My father knew it would pass, of course, but nonetheless, I imagine he’s pleased at the results.  Finally, you’ll never have to return to those dreadful muggles ever again.”

 

Harry blinked, feeling a bit staggered by the implications.  “Merlin,” he murmured.  “Never again.  I’ve wanted this for so long I almost can’t believe it’s real.”  But Harry’s expression soon fell.

 

Draco and Callidus looked at him, puzzled.  “Aren’t you glad?” Draco queried.

 

 “Yes - but -” Harry’s lips thinned into a line.  “It’s hard to be happy with all this other stuff going on.  It feels selfish, yeah?”

 

Draco gave Harry and odd look, as though Harry had just spoken in goblin gobbledegook.  “But what does that matter?  It’s not like  _ you’re _ the one who’s infected with the disease.  It doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “I always figured that concepts like basic decency were beyond you, Draco.”

 

 “What do you mean?” Draco retorted.  “I have perfectly good manners.  Better than yours, anyhow.  Much, better than yours.”

 

 “What are you three going on about?” Greengrass cut in, her voice sounding shrill.  “This whole situation is just terrible!  What is Dumbledore going to do about it?”

 

This comment caused most of the Slytherin second year to look towards the Head Table.  Dumbledore’s expression was oddly neutral - the typical twinkle in his eye was nowhere to be seen.  Something about that sight was strangely unsettling.

 

 “What can he do?” Draco scoffed.  “Maybe a disaster like this will be what finally gets him kicked out of his position.  Then we could have someone else as headmaster.  Someone who takes our situation and our safety seriously.”

 

The other Slytherins were nodding in agreement.  But Callidus was troubled - he knew that when Draco said ‘we’ he meant ‘purebloods’ or other people of importance.  But what about the others?  What about his friends like Hermione?  On the other hand, could he really trust Dumbledore?

 

 “But what could keep us safe?” Harry questioned.  “How do you keep something like a disease out of the school?  How are magical diseases spread anyway?” 

 

Callidus wondered the same thing.  Since he and Harry had grown up in the muggle world, they didn’t know anything about the transmission of magical diseases.  It was hardly the sort of topic that would be discussed at any dinner table.

 

 “It’s complicated.  Many magical diseases are caused by the interaction of an individual’s magic with the disease agent,” Draco explained.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows  “And?” He wanted to hear more details than that.

 

Draco frowned.  “I can’t really explain it beyond that.”

 “You mean you don’t know how to explain it, or you don’t know?” Callidus grilled.

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed in irritation.  “I don’t know, all right?  I’m not like Miss Know-it-all-muggleborn there in Gryffindor.  Besides, how diseases work isn’t the point.  The point is what the headmaster means to do about it.”

 

 “He should just remove all the muggleborns - send them home to the muggle world,” Greengrass insisted.  Upon seeing Harry’s shocked expression and Callidus’s incredulous one, she clarified.  “I mean, for our safety.”

 

 “It isn’t determined that the disease is limited to muggleborns.  Need I remind you that a half-blood was affected as well?” Callidus intoned, barely able to keep the cutting edge from his voice.

 

Greengrass opened her mouth to retort - possibly to say something that might be even more offensive, but she seemed to think better of it, and snapped her mouth shut, giving Callidus a dirty look.

 

By the time that breakfast was over and classes had begun, the situation began to feel more normal.  The news was disturbing, but it also felt relatively distant.  When faced with the normality of learning new charms or taking notes for History, it was easy to forget about what was happening in the outside world.  And with the belief that Hogwarts was one of the safest places on the Isles, it was easier to simply give in to the hope that nothing would happen here at Hogwarts.  Besides, how could one prepare for something like a dangerous disease?  It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be warded off with the right spells.

 

Callidus had just finished his last class of the day, History of Magic which had left him in a state where it was difficult to stop yawning, when a plump first year approached him.  

 

 “Are you Callidus?” the boy queried. 

 

 “Yes,” Callidus answered, mildly puzzled.

 

 “Here.”  The plump boy shoved a folded note at him, before leaving without an explanation. 

 

Callidus unfolded the note.  It was from Dumbledore, requesting a visit (with a postscript recommending the deliciousness of Ice Mice.)  He had almost forgotten about his monthly meetings with the headmaster - especially since Callidus had barely seen him over the summer.

 

 “What is it?” Harry asked, peering towards the note.

 

Callidus pocketed it.  “Nothing important.”  He had never been that comfortable discussing his relationship with the headmaster.  It was one of the odd ties to his past self, but if the Slytherins knew that he was having meetings with the headmaster, he’d be subjected to all sorts of wild conjectures.  It wasn’t the sort of thing that he wanted others to gossip about.

 

He excused himself from his friends, letting them assume that he was going to check something in the Potions Lab (after all, he was there often enough), and made his way towards the stone gargoyle that marked Dumbledore’s office.

 

After uttering ‘Ice Mice,’ he made his way up the circular stairs and knocked on the door. 

 

 “Ah, come in!” the headmaster’s voice beckoned.

 

The wooden doors swung open on their own, and as Callidus entered Dumbledore’s office, he could see the man feeding treats to Fawkes, his phoenix familiar.

 

 “Callidus, my boy,” Dumbledore said with a warm smile.  “How are you?  All settled in for your second year?”

 

 “I’m well and settled.  Yourself?  I understand that you’ve been very busy this past summer.”

 

Dumbledore smiled, as if this was a conversation between old friends, and not just some veneer of closeness, in which the whole purpose was to get a sense of what the other party was up to.  But while Callidus might have felt mistrustful, he didn’t resent Dumbledore.  He was certain the old man meant well, even if his nosy good-intentions sometimes caused more trouble than help.

 

 “Indeed, it has been a very busy summer.  I may have found a lead for what is tying Voldemort to this world.  If I can destroy those ties, he will be gone forever.  As for matters in the wizengamot - well - the climate of wizarding Britain seems to be changing, and it’s important that there be a voice of reason amidst the confusion and fear.”

 

While Calliudus appreciated Dumbledore’s efforts to remove the Dark Lord from this world, he had doubts about the man meddling in politics.  He gave a slight arch of his eyebrows.  “And you are in the best position to offer the voice of reason?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled.  “One might think that you doubt me, Callidus.”

 

 “Well, the Magical Child Protection Act  _ did _ just pass.  What are your thoughts on that?” 

 

Much of the sparkle vanished from Dumbledore’s eyes, but his expression stayed the same - untroubled and warm.  “Many dangerous things can arise from good intentions.  While I’m relieved that the magical world takes the plight of our children seriously, one should do so without demonizing and scapegoating others.”

 

 “Do you believe the new act does so?”

 

 “It paves the way for anti-muggle sentiment.  Children should be protected, but not at the expense of antagonizing others.  We should strive to do our best to create a balance between protecting children while respecting muggles.”

 

 “Harry will never have to see his muggle relatives again.  He should never have been placed with them in the first place,” Callidus pointed out. 

 

 “He will be staying at Hogwarts from now on.  Speaking of Harry, how is he doing?”

 

Callidus contemplated how he would answer.  He wasn’t about to bring up his suspicions concerning the pendant.  Aside from still throwing the occasional jinx towards Lockhart, Harry didn’t seem affected at all.  Callidus was starting to wonder if maybe Draco was right.  Maybe it was just a strange reaction to the pendant’s protective enchantments.  “He’s well.  He - well - I just wanted to thank you for letting us stay at Hogwarts over the summer.  Harry seemed particularly happy about it.”

 

Dumbledore inclined his head, and smiled understandingly.  “I’m happy to hear it.”

 

They fell into a brief silence, in which Dumbledore gave Fawkes another treat.

 

  “Was there something you wished to discuss today?” Callidus asked.

 

 “Ah, yes, there was.”  Dumbledore made his way over to his desk and sat down, gesturing for Callidus to do the same.  “What do you know about this new FLAME organization?  I understand that you are close to one of the founders?  Wystan Overcliff?”

 

 “FLAME?  Yes, Wystan is one of the founders.  Why do you have an interest in their group?”

 

 “I’ve heard that their group has been making quite an impact.  I simply wished to know your thoughts.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  He explained the basics of what he knew about Wystan’s organization, but he knew little more than generalities.  Callidus still hadn’t forgotten how Dumbledore had told him his potions discovery couldn’t be published the previous year.  He didn’t wish to needlessly draw Dumbledore’s suspicion towards Wystan’s group.  Wystan had always been on Callidus’s side after all.

 

Eventually, Callidus was dismissed by the headmaster.  As he left the office, he reflected that it was just a year ago that he felt significantly more comfortable with Dumbledore.  Dumbledore had been like a grandfather figure to him.  Now, Callidus saw him much as the other students did: as a headmaster.  True, Dumbledore spoke to him more than he spoke to the other students, but the feeling of closeness and trust had been lost.  Nonetheless, Callidus wouldn’t assume the worse of Dumbledore either.  The older man had his own agenda, but he was trying to make the world a better place, according to how he saw it.

 

He was about to head down to the Slytherin dungeons when it occurred to him that he wanted to find a book for a paper he was writing for Transfigurations.  He changed his direction and made his way to the library instead.  As he entered the library, Madam Pince gave him the same suspicious glare that she gave to all the students, but she must have recognized him as being not-a-troublemaker because she quickly looked away.

 

He ventured through the aisles of books and quickly found what he needed.  As he was about to leave, a familiar voice called his name.  He turned towards the voice and spotted Hermione and Caiside at one of the library tables. 

 

 “Hello Hermione, Caiside.  No Ginny today?” He sat down at the table next to Hermione and across from Caiside.

 

 “Ginny’s still at practice,” Hermione answered.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrow.  “Practice.  You wouldn’t happen to be referring to -”

 

 “I don’t think you were supposed to mention that,” Caiside cut in.  “I think it was supposed to be their big secret.”

 

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, looking vaguely guilty.  “It just slipped.”

 

 “Wait - are you saying that Ginny is - on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?  Because as far as I’m aware, Hogwarts doesn’t typically allow first years to play Quidditch.”

 

 “Don’t tell anyone!” Hermione pleaded.  “I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

 

 “The Gryffindors must be desperate if they’re allowing first years to play,” Callidus mused.

 

Caiside had crossed her arms, her expression irritated while Hermione still looked guilty.  “Just drop it,” Caiside snapped. 

 

Callidus grinned wolfishly.  “They  _ are _ desperate, aren’t they?  Ah, how low they’ve sunk.”

 

Caiside scowled  “Shut up!  I’ll have you know that Ginny’s an amazing flyer, and Gryffindors are going to crush you Slytherins this year.”

 

 “I’m hardly an expert on Quidditch, but it’s true - Ginny is quite a remarkable flyer,” Hermione added.

 

 “Well, we shall see in the first game in November, won’t we?” Callidus challenged. 

 

 “Yes we will,” Caiside replied, her eyes gleaming with opposition.

 

Hermione sighed and shook her head.  “Is it really worth getting this worked up about Quidditch?”

 

Caiside still looked combative, but Callidus, who had to endure far too much Quidditch talk was willing to let the topic go with a shrug.

 

 “I suppose not.  How have you been?” Callidus asked Hermione.  “This morning’s news was rather unexpected, wasn’t it?”

 

 “That’s one way of putting it,” Caiside muttered.

 

 “It was disturbing,” Hermione admitted.  “I wonder if they needed to reveal that almost all the victims so far have been muggleborns.  At this point, it could still be a coincidence.  It’s as though they’re purposely adding fuel to the anti-muggle fire.  The situation is disturbing enough as it is.  I started reading about magical diseases just to better understand what might be happening.  The last serious magical epidemic coincided with the muggle Spanish flu.  Of course, the muggle epidemic resulted in much more deaths, but the magical equivalent was quite bad.  It threw the whole wizarding world into chaos.”

 

Callidus lifted his eyebrows, intrigued.  “What happened?

 

 “The epidemic of 1918 affected all wizards and witches, not just muggleborns,” Hermione explained.  “But it seemed to predominantly affect the magically weak.  Squibs were especially vulnerable - but pretty much anyone that was below a certain threshold was susceptible to the disease.  When people noticed that squibs were more likely to catch the disease, they were cast out of the wizarding world, with no support - left to die, essentially.  It was appalling.  And because the muggles were so preoccupied with their own epidemic, they didn’t notice a few more fatalities.”

 

Caiside looked disturbed.  “That’s messed up.”

 

 “It was awful,” Hermione agreed.  “But as the disease progressed, and people realized that it wasn’t only squibs that were affected, it tore down the social structure of the wizarding community.  People shut themselves in behind protective enchantments.  People became obsessive about learning and using defencive magics, even if it wasn’t proven to help.  Essentially, people stopped trusting one another.  Hospitals were overrun, and researchers were doing everything they could to find a cure.  The rich had it best - they could easily hide behind their large estates, and let others take care of their basic needs.  But it was awful for anyone who lived in a wizarding community, in close proximity to others.  The disease couldn’t be transmitted to muggles, so any who were living amidst muggles were safe, but - as I mentioned, the muggles themselves had their own problems, with the Spanish flu.

 

 “They found the cure eventually - it was the top priority for the wizarding world at the time, so they had all of the most brilliant minds working towards the solution.  But -” Hermione’s expression was somber, “- it took a long time for the wizarding world to pull itself back together.  The mistrust persisted for quite a while.  People were scared that there would be a resurgence of the disease.  It took years for the wizarding world to recover from that outbreak.  And even now, the perception towards squibs is generally very negative.”

 

Callidus frowned as he pondered he words.  He could imagine a situation just like that arising if this new disease turned out to be a serious problem.  If it affected muggleborns and pure-bloods alike, that would be bad enough, but if it was mostly muggleborns who were affected, it would only deepen the divide between them.  Something like that could tear the wizarding world apart, and Callidus felt a knot of dark foreboding in his gut.

 

 “I just hope that whatever it is, they find the cure for it soon,” Hermione sighed.

 

 “Yeah.  Plus, disasters tend to bring out the worst in people,” Caiside added.  “Did those books mention any ways that we can protect ourselves from getting sick?”

 

Hermione pursed her lips.  “Mostly just staying away from people who have fallen ill.  Keeping up your magical strength through regular usage.”  She shook her head.  “Nothing that useful.”

 

Callidus hummed.  He had been planning to excuse himself to return to the dungeons, when Ginny appeared, her hair slightly damp as if recently washed.  Callidus raised his eyebrows, wondering why she hadn’t used a drying spell.

 

 “Hi everyone!” Ginny chirped brightly, which earned her a threatening glare from Madam Pince.  “Oops!  Hi.” (She said this much more softly.)  “Callidus - I didn’t realize you’d be here today.  Hey Caiside, did you notice the way Neville’s staring at you?  I think he has a crush.” Ginny giggled with amusement, while Caiside frowned.  Hermione and Callidus looked over at the other tables and when they saw Neville Longbottom, a rather timid and clumsy Gryffindor, the boy flushed and stared down at his book with conspicuous concentration.

 

 “It’s not a crush,” Caiside countered,  “he just has an interest in magical plants, and he knows that I like them too.”

 

Ginny smirked.  “Sure.  Whatever you say.”  She flopped down on the seat next to Caiside. “What have you lot been talking about?”

 

Callidus, Hermione and Caiside exchanged glances.  “Well - we were talking about magical diseases,” Hermione admitted.

 

Ginny wrinkled her nose.  “That’s - er -”

 

 “Odd?  Depressing?  Disturbing?  Alarming?  Funny?” Caiside suggested.

 

 “Er - one of those,” Ginny finished.  “Probably not funny.”

 

 “Yes, well, this has been nice, but I think I’ll be leaving.” Callidus quickly stood up.

 

 “Aw, so soon?” Ginny pouted. “I wanted to ask you about -”

  
 “Harry’s good, Harry’s fine,” Callidus cut her off.  “Harry’s probably just as upset about the disease as you are.  See you later Hermione, Caiside.”  And with that, Callidus quickly left before he could be pulled into the grasp of the three girls.


	11. Chapter 11

In the final week of September, Callidus, Harry and Draco had just finished their classes for the day and they had noticed that the crowd around the Slytherin’s notice board was thicker than usual.  The trio shared a look.  Was there a post about the new club ARMED?  Or could it be about reinstating the duelling club?

 

 “Let’s go take a look,” Draco suggested, already pushing his way through the crowd.  

 

Since most of the older students had already read the notice, they shifted away, allowing the younger students access.  The noticeboard contained not one, but two new notices.  The first read: ‘First meeting of the ARMED club - October 1st.  Speak to Euphemia Rowle if interested.’  Callidus noted with interest that there was no mention of what the new club would even be about.  Were they relying on word of mouth to gain the interest of the other students?  The second notice read: ‘Hogwarts Dueling club - First meeting at 8 o’clock in the Great Hall.’

 

 “The dueling club!” Harry exclaimed happily.  “I was wondering when they would start that up again.”

 

Draco nodded.  “We’ll need it.  Considering Lockhart’s teaching abilities, I doubt we’ll learn anything useful in his class this year.” He shook his head.  “How senile can Dumbledore be to hire him?”

 

 “I didn’t realize it was possible for a teacher to be worse at teaching than Quirrell,” Harry added wryly.  “But at least with Lockhart, we’ve got him in a position of submission.” Harry smirked with dark satisfaction.

 

Draco grinned.  “The dueling club might even teach us new spells that we could use on him.”

 

 “Frankly, I’m surprised he managed to even last as long as he has,” Callidus intoned.  “It’d be a miracle if he survives to the end of the year without a full nervous breakdown.”

 

 “Ha!  Could you imagine if he ended up in the Janus Thickey Ward because of us?” Draco speculated.

 

Callidus peered over at Harry.  Often, similar comments would cause Harry to comment that Draco was going too far, or that he was being cruel.  Instead, Harry just looked amused.

 

 “So - about ARMED,” Callidus changed the topic.

 

Draco’s expression became thoughtful.  “You know, my father actually wrote me about the new club.  He _ insisted  _ that I join.  He didn’t tell me why though, but I assume it’s important.  He wouldn’t suggest a club unless there was something important I could gain from it.” Draco looked over at Callidus.  “What did Wystan tell you about it?”

 

Having explained it before, Callidus explained the club to Draco and Harry again.  But since he hadn’t gotten that much details from Wystan, there were still many gaps in his knowledge. 

 

 “You know who Euphemia Rowle is, right?” Harry asked Draco.

 

Draco nodded.  He scanned the common room until his eyes fell upon a seventh year girl.  She had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin lips pulled up in a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  Rowle was with a group of other seventh year students, and judging by the way that she allowed them to do the talking, she appeared to be rather reserved.

 

 “Her,” Draco indicated with the tilt of his chin.

 

 “Should we go speak to her now?” Harry pondered.  It seemed rather brash to simply interrupt a group of seventh years.  On the other hand, the notice had said to speak to her, and if not now, then when?

 

Draco shrugged indifferently.   “I don’t see why not.”  Rowle might be part of an old and noble pureblood family, but she did not have the same wealth, influence or power as the Malfoys. 

 

Thus decided, the trio made their way over to the group of upperclassmen.  

 

 “Hello Euphemia,” Draco greeted with polished pureblood manners.

 

Rowle peered up at him from the sofa, and her smile widened, looking slightly more genuine.  “Draco.”

 

 “We noticed the note that you had pinned to the board and wanted to speak to you about ARMED,” Draco informed her.  “We were interested in joining.”

 

Upon saying ‘we,’ Rowle suddenly seemed aware of Callidus’s and Harry’s presence.  She gave them a nod that could only be described as microscopic before turning her attention back to Draco.

 

 “Of course,” she answered smoothly.  “The first meeting will be in one of the empty rooms in the dungeon - it the empty room next to where Professor Snape’s office used to be.  Do you know where that is?”

 

 “Yes,” Draco replied.

 

 “To join ARMED, there is a fifty galleon entry free.  You’re also required to loan or if you’re feeling generous, donate an old spellbook or grimoire to the club, which all other members will have access to.” Rowle raised her eyebrows slightly, as if silently asking whether Draco understood.

 

 “What if we don’t have old spellbooks to donate?” Harry cut in.

 

Rowle peered towards Harry before bringing her eyes back to Draco.  “The terms of entry into ARMED are not negotiable.”

 

 “Can’t we just - pay more galleons instead?” Harry offered.

 

Rowle flicked another glance at Harry before looking back at Draco.  “The requirements include the fee and the spellbook or grimoire.  You understand that starting a club like this one presents quite a risk to us, don’t you?” Rowle’s expression towards Draco was imploring.  “By loaning or donating a spellbook, it’s a form of security, to ensure that members will not do anything to betray the interests of the club.  So I’m afraid I can’t bend these requirements for  _ anyone _ .”  

 

 “I understand,” Draco murmured.  Rowle gave him a warm smile (or at least the warmest that Callidus had seen so far.)  

 

Draco smiled in return. “Good day, then.”  With a nod, he left the group of seventh years, trailed by an irritated-looking Harry and a thoughtful but troubled Callidus.  Despite Rowle’s polite words, she did not seem troubled that the requirements would potentially exclude a great deal of people.  Callidus couldn’t help wondering if perhaps that was what she wanted.  Was this why Parkinson didn’t like her?

 

The trio made their way to the second year’s usual spot in the common room, where most of their peers were already lounging.

 

 “What was  _ with _ her?” Harry wondered, his mouth formed into scowl.  “Did you notice how she barely looked at me or Callidus, and directed the whole conversation to you, Draco?”

 

Draco blinked.  “She did?”

 

Callidus arched an eyebrow.  “You didn’t notice.” 

 

Harry made a sound of exasperation.  

 

The trio sat down at the sofa, and were met with questioning looks from Parkinson, who was perched on the arm of one of the armchairs across from them.  Blaise himself sat in the armchair.

 

 “You spoke to Two-faced Euphie?” she asked, though it was clear that she had been observing them and already knew the answer.

 

 “She seemed perfectly polite to me,” Draco remarked.

 

Harry’s eyebrows were knit.  “What is her issue?”

 

 “I  _ told _ you she was two-faced,” Parkinson reminded him.  “She only associates with those that she considers important enough.  Unfortunately, she’s always been rather good at masking her feelings.  She rarely ever does anything that gives away her disdain for others.”

 

Callidus frowned.  He remembered Parkinson’s words on Hogwarts Express.  He hadn’t been sure of what to expect when it came to Euphemia Rowle, and had decided to reserve judgement until he interacted with her.  But that initial interaction had not left him feeling optimistic.  Mentioning that old spellbooks or grimoires were required was like an indirect way of saying: ‘only old pureblood families are allowed.’  It enabled Rowle to act polite, while using the rules themselves to exclude people she didn’t like.  If Rowle’s actions had been intentional, it was not a good sign - or rather, it was the sign of a savvy Slytherin, who knew how to use indirect means to get her way.

 

Harry crossed his arms.  “I don’t like her.”

 

Parkinson smirked.  “Join the club.”

 

 “I still think it would be advantageous to join ARMED,” Callidus opined.  “Though it’s unfortunate for the club to be headed by someone like Rowle.”  Callidus wondered if Wystan was aware of Rowle’s nature.  He would have to write him to find out.

 

 “Rowle shouldn’t be in charge of anything other than her own wardrobe,” Parkinson declared.  “Though I question if she should even be in charge of that.  I certainly shan’t be joining her club.”

 

Zabini gave a light shrug. “I can’t say I have a strong interest in joining either.”

 

 “I’ll join,” Bulstrode threw in.

 

 “But Millie!” Parkinson protested. “Don’t you remember how Euphie treated you before?”

 

Bulstrode shrugged.  “The club might make me stronger.”

 

 “I definitely will,” Draco announced.

 

Parkinson rolled her eyes.  “Obviously.  You’ll do anything that daddy tells you to do.”

 

 “That’s because -”

 

 “- your father is a respectable pureblood, with a powerful position in society, who knows all sorts of things that we don’t.  Yes, yes, Draco, we’ve heard it all before,” Parkinson interrupted. “Regardless of all that, I have better things to do than to submit myself to Two-faced Euphie’s authority in any way.  I have a feeling she’ll take advantage of it in the worst sort of way.”

 

 “But wouldn’t she still be obligated to run the club well?” Callidus wondered. “It’s a subsidiary under the FLAME organization.  She can’t just run roughshod over everything and everyone, can she?”

 

Parkinson shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll do a sufficient job of running the club.   _ If _ she considers you good enough for her attentions.”

 

Harry frowned. “This is starting to sound a lot less appealing.  Maybe we should just stick to the dueling club.  The first meeting is tonight.”

 

Parkinson huffed. “All this talk of clubs is boring anyway.  There was something else that I wanted to discuss.” Parkinson turned towards Callidus, wearing a knowing smile that sent shivers down his spine.

 

 “ _ Cal _ ,” Parkinson purred. “Blaise and I were in the library the other day.  Since when have you acquired a gaggle of girls as companions?”

 

Draco’s eyes bulged and he stared at Callidus.  “Gaggle of girls?  What are they talking about?”

 

Callidus groaned.  “It’s nothing.  Just Hermione, Caiside who is part of my foster family, and one of their friends.”

 

Draco leaned forward, not bothering to hide his interest.  “Who?”

 

 “Ginny Weasley.”

 

 “Weasley?!” Draco exclaimed.  Callidus was uncomfortably aware that he had the stares of all the second year Slytherins. “The one that we saw at Gambol and Japes?  Or partially saw before she scurried away like a rodent exposed to the light?”

 

Harry was laughing at this point.  “So it’s just you and three girls?  And aren’t they all Gryffindors?  When do you see them?  I’ve never seen you alone with three girls.”

 

Callidus scowled, crossing his arms defensively.  “When the two of you are at practice.  We just study together.  It’s not like we’re all  _ friends _ .  I’m only friends with Hermione.  And that’s because she’s the only intelligent company I can find in this school, unlike you lot.”

 

Draco snorted.  “Sure.  Study.  Is that just your way of saying that you help each other with beauty spells, gossip about Lockhart’s eyes, and apply each other’s Sleekeazy hair potion?”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Have you  _ seen _ Hermione’s hair?  You probably spend more time on your hair than the three of them combined.  You’re being ridiculous.”

 

 “Hm.  You have a point,” Draco conceded.  “Gryffindor girls are practically barbarians.”

 

 “I think it’s  _ cute _ !” Parkinson grinned.  “Absolutely adorable!”

 

 “Do they really talk about Lockhart’s eyes?” Harry asked, his nose scrunched up.  “I was hoping that delusion was limited to only Slytherin girls and maybe Hufflepuffs.  What do they see in him anyway?  Maybe a few more balding spells will change their minds.”

 

 “You wouldn’t dare make Professor Lockhart bald!” Parkinson exclaimed in dismay, but the trio ignored her.

 

Callidus’s expression was disgusted.  “No one talks about Lockhart!  I’d curse them all to silence if they tried.”

 

 “What  _ do _ you talk about then?” Draco wondered.

 

A slow smile spread across Callidus’s face as he thought of some way he could irritate Draco. “Oh, mostly they ask about Harry.  Seeing as they think he’s the best of the Slytherin boys.”

 

Draco frowned.  “What?  No, you’re lying!  Everyone  _ knows _ and  _ wants _ the the favour of the Malfoys.”

 

Harry only blushed, embarrassed by the idea that a group of girls were talking about him behind his back, even if it probably happened all the time.

 

Callidus shrugged casually.  “Believe what you want.  But dark, mysterious and heroic seems to be much more appealing than uptight and blond.”

 

 “They just know that they’d never stand a chance with me,” Draco retorted.

 

 “Ah, Draco, you assume too much.” Callidus grinned wickedly.  “You assume that they’ve even noticed you in the first place.”

 

 “Who cares about the attention of a bunch of uncouth Gryffindors anyway?” Draco pouted.

 

Callidus just smirked.  Eventually the conversation died down as the students began to work on their assignments.  Before long, it was almost 8 o’clock, and the trio (as well as Bulstrode, Davis, Nott and Zabini) headed towards the Great Hall for the first meeting of the dueling club.

 

This year, the crowd seemed larger than it had the previous year.  And when the trio caught sight of a familiar head of blond hair standing on the central platform, they realized why.  Not only was Professor Flitwick standing on the stage, but Lockhart was as well.  The trio couldn’t help the expressions of dismay that crossed their faces.

 

 “I really hope he’s just here to help with demonstrations,” Harry muttered. “Although - with a crowd like this.  Hm.  It’d be a good opportunity to try some of the new spells we’ve been learning on him, yeah?”

 

Callidus and Draco looked over at Harry.  Draco was now wearing a wicked smile that matched Harry’s while Callidus felt a bit more indifferent.  Lockhart was annoying, but the trio’s constant pranks and hexes had worn him down and the man had lost a great deal of his obnoxiousness.  It wasn’t quite as fun hexing him anymore.

 

As the trio wove their way through the crowd, Callidus caught sight of Hermione, who was flanked by Caiside and Ginny.  She spotted them a moment later, and called out to them.

 

 “Hi Callidus, Harry, Draco.  Isn’t it exciting that Lockhart will be helping with the dueling club this year?”

 

Callidus tried not to wince while Draco and Harry smirked at him.

 

 “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your - friends?” Draco asked Callidus, barely able to hide his amusement.

 

 “Draco, Harry, this is Caiside Filodoxos and Ginny Weasley.  Caiside and Ginny, this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy,” Callidus gritted out.

 

 “Charmed,” Caiside uttered.  As for Ginny, Callidus was surprised to see that the girl had flushed an alarming shade of red, and could barely bring herself to look at Harry.  What happened to the brash and confident girl that he knew?

 

 “Hello,” Ginny said in a voice so small and shy that she could barely be heard over the crowd.

 

 “The pleasure is mine,” Draco said, displaying his best pureblood manners.

 

As Draco began to make small talk with the girls, Harry leaned over towards Callidus.

 

 “What’s wrong with her?” Harry queried, referring to Ginny’s awkward behaviour.

 

Callidus shook his head.  “She’s not usually like that.  Usually, she speaks her mind, but for the most part, she only wants to talk about - er - you.”

 

 “Me?  So you were serious about that?”  Now Harry was the one who was blushing.  He groaned.  “It’s that whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, isn’t it?  The Weasley twins had mentioned it, but I had hoped that they were just joking.”

 

 “No, it’s no joke.”  Callidus considered bringing Harry over to speak to the now-bashful Ginny, but he had a feeling that both of them wouldn’t be able to endure the embarrassment.  It was amusing, and Harry probably deserved it for making fun of him earlier, but Ginny looked like her heart would probably explode.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lockhart’s voice.   "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!” Lockhart flashed a brilliant white grin.  He was wearing dueling robes that looked more decorative than functional, including a cape of shiny gold and velvet black.

 

As Lockhart continued to blather, Harry murmured, “Watch this.”

 

Harry whispered a spell, and with a ‘v’ like flick of his wand, Lockhart’s cape flew upwards and covered him.

 

 “What the deuce?!” Lockhart exclaimed, his voice muffled by his thick cape.  He struggled to pull the cape off of himself, while the crowd of students either laughed at him or if they were fans, made sympathetic noises.

 

 “Ah - what Professor Lockhart was saying was that we’ll be commencing dueling club meetings starting this week,” Flitwick cut in, his eyes bright with amusement.  “Since quite a number of our volunteers have graduated, I’d like students who are interested in volunteering this year to please step forward.”

 

Lockhart, who had finally managed to extricate himself from his cape interrupted. “I thought the students would like to see a little demonstration first.  After all, they’ll surely want to witness my - er - our skills, in the honourable art of dueling, something I have proven my remarkable proficiency in numerous times.” Lockhart grinned again at the crowd, as confident as ever.  “For full details, see my published works.”

 

Draco scowled, and with a whispered spell, he made a looping movement with his wand, causing Lockhart to trip and nearly fall on his face.

 

 “Whoops!” Lockhart uttered sheepishly.  “Just - er - showing off my quick reflexes!”

 

 “Right,” Flitwick muttered before increasing his volume for the crowd.  “Well, I suppose our students might like to see a demonstration.  It looks like we have quite a number of first years and other new members this year, which I’m pleased to see.  Dueling is indeed a noble and ancient art, but it’s an exciting one as well.” 

 

 “Think he stands a chance?” Harry asked under his breath.

 

Draco snorted, while Callidus just said: “No.”

 

The two professors took their positions on the stage.  Lockhart once again turned towards the crowd of students.  “Now, some of the spells we’ll be showing you might be far beyond your years, but with a little practice you might be able to master them as I have.  What you lack in natural talent, you can always make up with in hard work, I’ve always said.  I myself, though highly talented, have never been a stranger to putting in my share of sweat and blood!”

 

The trio rolled their eyes.  

 

Finally, the professors were in their dueller’s stances.  The crowd had fallen silent in anticipation for the show.

 

 “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells,” Lockhart informed them. “Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." 

 

 “That’s a shame,” Harry muttered.

 

 “One - two - three -”

 

While Lockhart’s wand hand was still up in the air, Professor Flitwick had moved with amazing speed, appearing almost like a small blur.  

 

 “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” The diminutive professor had cried.  Lockhart’s wand had flown straight out of his hand and into Flitwick’s.

 

 “Ah - Well done, Professor Flitwick!  I meant to do that of course - it was the perfect opportunity to show you the disarming spell, and I didn’t want your beloved Charms professor to be harmed of course.  Now if we can -”

 

 “Let’s have the House volunteers come to the front,” Flitwick cut in, taking charge of the club.  There was a groan of disappointment in the crowd.  Many of the students would have been pleased to see Lockhart repeatedly defeated by Flitwick.

 

 “Professor Lockhart’s so gallant,” the trio heard Hermione comment wistfully.

 

 “Harry’s more gallant,” Ginny declared, before realizing what she had admitted and turning a vibrant red.

 

 “How can you possibly like him?” Harry wondered, incredulously.  “The only contests he’s likely to win are bragging contents.”

 

 “He’s a well respected author who has published many well-known works,” Hermione defended.

 

 “He can’t even protect himself from basic jinxes,” Callidus scoffed.

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “What do you mean?  What would you know about his self-defence skills?  Haven’t you read his books?”

 

Since the trio weren’t about to admit that they were terrorizing Lockhart (no matter how proud they were of the fact), they didn’t know how to respond.

 

 “The man  _ does _ have a rather dashing smile,” Caiside pointed out.

 

 “And how many duels have been won with a dashing smile?” Callidus queried sarcastically.

 

 “Well, if you read  _ Holidays with Hags _ , you’d know that -”

 

 “Nevermind!” Callidus interjected, cutting Hermione off.  “I’m sure Lockhart managed to charm many a number of hags with his smiles.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips.  “If you had read  _ Professor _ Lockhart’s books, you’d know that the duel he references doesn’t actually have to do with hags.  It was truly a brave feat - and much of it had to do with a misunderstanding on the part of the helpless villagers that were being terrorized by -”

 

 “Okay, I think we’ve heard enough Lockhart.  Maybe we should focus on the dueling club instead?” Harry suggested.

 

 “Yes,  _ please, _ ” Draco answered, as if it pained him to hear anything positive about Lockhart.

 

Finally, Flitwick had the volunteers sorted out, and the students separated themselves by their houses.  The Slytherin’s volunteer leader was a sixth year named Tristan Blackshale that none of the trio were particularly familiar with.  Unlike Wystan, he wasn’t wearing a welcoming smile, but instead, seemed to have a serious demeanour.  Nonetheless, the Slytherins were optimistic.  Hopefully dueling club would be as fun this year as it was the previous one.


	12. Chapter 12

  “October already,” Draco declared. 

 

Harry nodded.  “The first meeting of the ARMED club will be tonight.

 

The trio were in the Great Hall with the other Slytherins, eating their breakfast.  They had all decided that they would be joining ARMED, despite their reservations about Rowle.  Since neither Callidus nor Harry had appreciated Rowle's treatment towards them, they had spoken to the other club leader, Gabriel Truman.  The Hufflepuff had been incredibly friendly - more so than they were accustomed to from someone they barely knew.  Furthermore, Truman had been very enthusiastic about the new club, speaking of all that he hoped ARMED would accomplish for the student body.  However, it was evident to both Callidus and Harry that this branch of ARMED would not be covering anything considered Dark.  It sounded interesting and they could see that Truman would probably do his best to make the club enjoyable, but both boys felt as if they would be at a disadvantage if they didn't join the Slytherin faction.

 

They had both been worried about meeting Rowle's requirements.  But in the end, Harry had been able to write to Gringott's bank where it turned out that some old Potter spellbooks had been stored.  As for Callidus, he realized that his older self had purchased two incredibly old and rare grimoires.  It felt like it was luck alone that had gained them entrance into the club.

 

After their initial meeting with the Flitwick and Lockhart in the Great Hall, their interest in ARMED had waned.  However, when the younger Slytherins had their first meeting with Tristan Blackshale, they were disappointed.  It turned out that Flitwick had given all the volunteers suggested frameworks to follow.  While Wystan had been very flexible with the suggestions, adding his own extra spells and techniques if he thought the students could handle it, Blackshale was extremely rigid.  He treated Flitwick’s framework as if it were mandatory, rather than optional, refusing to deviate from Flitwick's written notes.

 

While the trio had ended up learning a new spell, they hadn't enjoyed the experience.  Blackshale had been far too tyrannical.  He was like a younger Professor McGonagall, except more judgemental, hovering over the student's shoulders like an over-zealous ministry safety inspector.  It left the trio wondering how Blackshale managed to have any friends at all in his House.  Perhaps he treated his friends completely differently.

 

 “I can't believe that all of you have decided to go,” Parkinson whinged from across the breakfast table.  “I mean, I knew Draco would but I thought you two didn't like Euphie.” This was addressed to Callidus and Harry.  

 

 “We don't like her,” Callidus answered. “We're just hoping that what we can learn outweighs the unpleasantness of her presence.”

 

 “I hope it's worth it,” Parkinson muttered.

 

Before Callidus could reply, the owl post had arrived, and a letter had been dropped in front of Callidus, narrowly missing his pumpkin juice.  Callidus picked it up and recognized Wystan’s pointy scrawl.  He unfolded the letter.

 

_ Hello Callidus, _

 

_ I can't believe September is nearly over - or I suppose that when you receive this, September will actually be over.  Makes you wish you had your own time-turner, doesn't it?  Do you even know what a time-turner is?  Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it, because now that you know of their existence, you'll want one.  One paragraph in, and I've probably already filled you with disappointment.  I feel like that ought to be some sort of record.   _ The handwriting changed to Calypso's loopy style.   _ Or you could just have low expectations! _

 

The handwriting returned to Wystan’s scrawl _.  Isn't she cute?  Anyhow you wanted to know why I chose Euphemia to lead the Slytherin faction of the club?  I've always found her to be nice though with my ‘talent’ I do get the sense that she’s rather greedy, but then again, most Slytherins are driven by either a need for recognition or by galleons. On top of that, she volunteered for it.  Running a club is a lot of work - I know you probably thought I was just winging it during your dueling club meetings, but to be honest, I gave it a lot of thought.   _ The handwriting switched again.   _ Aww, he likes to think that he's cool but he tries so hard.  I know that sounds sarcastic, but it's actually a good thing <3 _

 

Callidus scrunched his nose.  Was this turning into some sort of love letter?  It was kind of embarrassing.

 

The letter returned to the pointy scrawl.   _ She's just perfect, isn't she? _

 

And now it was Calypso's handwriting.  _ I am, aren't I?  But you're pretty perfect yourself. _

 

Callidus winced, scanning through the letter until it contained some actual content.  What were they thinking, putting all this lovey dovey stuff in a writing?  Couldn’t they just keep it between themselves?

 

_ Anyway,  _ wrote Wystan,  _ we've been making a lot of headway with FLAME’s objectives.  There's a lot of interest in the magical world for forms of magic that can solve problems in ways that Light or Grey magics can't.  On top of that, people resent being told by the ministry what forms of magic they can or can't perform.  I mean, how and why is it even the Ministry's business to tell us what magics we can use in our own homes?  Witches and wizards deserve the right to practice the magics they chose, so long as all participants consent in the processes involved. _

 

_ Of course, opponent will argue that it's a slippery slope, but I believe they are using fallacious reasoning.  They’re using fear mongering to block something that they don’t understand, and because they don’t understand it, they don’t want anyone else to have access to it. _

 

_ It sounds like you’re current potions projection is quite fascinating.  Now that you mention it, it is rather odd to think that the vapourization of potions has not been heavily studied.  If you make any interesting breakthroughs, let me know.  I can get you in contact with people who can get your ideas published, or if not that, then I could get you in contact with interested investors.  Since starting FLAME, I’ve met quite a number of interesting and powerful people. _

 

_ As for this new disease, FLAME hasn’t been involving itself in any of the research.  Most of that is being done at St. Mungo’s, although they’re more focused on finding a cure, than understanding the disease itself.  Actually, what our researchers are studying is the impact of different types of magic on a person’s magical energy.  Some call it the aura, or others refer to it as the magical signature.  We haven’t come up with a definitive term yet.  But preliminary studies have shown that using what’s considered Dark Magic leaves a lasting mark on one’s ‘magical signature.’  In fact, Light magic and Grey magic do so as well, but naturally, people are most fascinated with the effects of Dark Magic. _

 

_ We don’t yet know what this mark on the ‘magical signature’ means.  That is, we can’t confirm whether it’s harmful or benign, but my guess is that the mark is largely neutral.  It’d be a huge blow against us advocates of all forms of magic if it turns out that Dark Magic is harmful.  Of course, I wouldn’t let my biases colour my perceptions of the results.  It’s not my research anyway - it’s just what some of our researchers are working on. _

 

_ I think I’ve been blathering for long enough, and Calypso is starting to wilt from the lack of my attention.   _ The handwriting switched to loopy and round.   _ I am not!  _  And then it returned to Wystan’s text.   _ Ha!  She’s so adorable.  I can’t say no to my fair maiden. _

 

_ Until next time, _

 

_ Wystan Overcliff _

 

By the end of the letter, Callidus couldn’t help shaking his head.

 

 “What did Wystan have to say?” Harry asked, peering over at the letter.

 

 “About Rowle?  Nothing useful.  He said she volunteered to lead the club, and that she was nice and - greedy.”  Callidus frowned.

 

 “Greedy?” Harry echoed.  “Hm.  Gabriel Truman didn’t mention any entry fee when we asked him about his faction of ARMED.  What if she’s keeping all those galleons for herself?”

 

 “Hrm,” Parkinson hummed, her eyes narrowed.  “Honestly, that wouldn’t surprise me.”  She peeked over to the end of the table where the seventh years were sitting before returning her gaze to Harry and Callidus.  “Are you to  _ sure _ you want to join?”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “We might as well find out what it’s all about.”

 

Classes seemed to pass slowly that day.  They were learning the skurge charm in Charms, which was used to clean up ectoplasm from passing ghosts.  However, Callidus also noted that it could be used to frighten spirits including poltergeists like Peeves.  He didn’t yet know how he could take advantage of the spell, but it seemed like it would be worth remembering, just in case. 

 

The Hufflepuff’s resident ghost, the Fat Friar had volunteered to help Flitwick with the class, and was acting remarkably cheerful about the whole matter, despite the fact that a few students had almost hit him with the skurge charm.

 

 “Good job there!” the sunny-natured ghost kept declaring.  “Oh my, careful with that wand!  Almost hit me!  But excellent job casting!”  He floated across the front of the class, and between the desks, leaving a generous trail of ectoplasm in his wake.  Between the Fat Friar and Flitwick, it was hard to tell who was merrier.  Callidus would have found it more amusing, but it was hard to stop thinking about what the ARMED club would be like.

 

Finally, classes were over for the day.  Callidus spent an hour working in the potions lab, before joining the rest of the second years in the common room to half-heartedly work on their assignments.  Before long, it was evening.  The trio collected their spellbook and galleons, and made their way to the empty room where the club would be meeting.  When they arrived, there were already numerous Slytherins there.

 

Despite not having been used for as long as anyone could remember, the room was tidy and spotlessly clean.  It certainly wasn’t filled with dust, cobwebs and broken furniture, like one might imagine a previously abandoned room to look like.  Most of the chairs were taken by the upperclassmen, so the younger students remained standing.  The trio spotted Euphemia Rowle at one side of the room, collecting the grimoires and fees from a group of students, while another student recorded their personal information on a parchment.

 

Making their way over to her, they waited as the other Slytherins handed over their books and galleons.  When they were finally in front of Rowle, she looked startled to see both Callidus and Harry.  However, her expression changed and she gave them a polite (but chilly) smile.  When she turned to Draco, she warmed considerably.

 

 “Good to see you here, Draco.  Ah, what a remarkable grimoire you’ve brought.  Doesn’t this pre-date Merlin?” Rowle queried, as she examined the book.

 

Draco nodded proudly.  “It does.”

 

 “Remarkable.” Rowle looked at the book with admiration before carefully setting it down with the other books on the table.  “This is an amazingly generous loan on your part. I can’t thank you enough.”

 

 “You’re quite welcome,” Draco answered, looking pleased with himself.  He shuffled over to the other student, who took down his name and the title and description of the grimoire he had lent.

 

Next was Harry’s turn.  He handed his galleons and books over to Rowle.  She looked down at the spellbook, flipping through its pages and frowning, before looking back up at Harry.

 

 “You are aware that most of these are Light or neutral spells, don’t you?” Rowle questioned.

 

Harry shrugged.  “And?  You asked for an old spellbook and I brought one.”

 

Rowle’s icy blue eyes narrowed slightly, and her thin lips pulled into a thinner line.  “Are you quite certain you understand what this club is about?”

 

Now Harry was starting to look irritated.  Even Callidus felt annoyed.  Rowle was speaking to Harry as if he were a small and ignorant child.

 

 “I understand that this is a club to study and practice magic of  _ all _ types,” Harry said tartly.  “As far as I’m aware, Light and neutral magics fall under the category of ‘all magic.’”

 

Rowle looked like she was almost ready to argue but managed to hold herself back.  She pasted a false smile on her face, and set the book down, placing it so that it was slightly distanced from the others.  “Please make your way to the left.  Roselind with take down your name and information.”  Rowle looked away from Harry and gave Callidus the same false smile.

 

It pained Callidus to have to hand over the book and the gold.  He knew that the book would eventually be returned, but he didn’t trust Rowle.  Unlike Draco or Harry, Callidus didn’t have an inheritance - all he had were the earnings he had made as an adult (as well as his more recent earnings, selling potions under the table.)  Fifty galleons was a small fortune to him, and handing it over to someone like Rowle felt as distasteful as licking the underbelly of a rat.  It left a bad taste in his mouth.

 

Rowle examined his book.  “Hmm.  Not as old as some of the others.”  She shrugged.  “Make your way to the left.”  And with that, Callidus was dismissed.

 

After giving the girl at the table his name and information, he made his way over to his friends, who were standing by one of the far walls.  The older students seemed to cluster together, as did the younger ones.  

 

When all the interested club members were finally processed, Rowle made her way to the front of the room and flicked her wand to set off a stream of sparkling pale sparks to gain the students’ attention.  Her movements were so dainty and refined that Callidus wondered how many years it took for her to perfect her pure-blood mannerisms.

 “Hello everyone, and welcome to the first meeting of the ARMED club,” Rowle began.  “As many of you are aware, ARMED is a subsidiary of the FLAME organization.  We’ve started this club so that we can have access to the many types of magics that aren’t taught at a school like Hogwarts.  Many of us here already have the private means to supplement our knowledge, but the aim of ARMED is to gather all these magics in one place so that we have access to greater knowledge and greater magic.  It’s up to us to supplement our own gaps of ignorance.  It’s up to us to make sure we don’t suffer the disadvantages of only knowing the magics that Ministry administrators allow us to learn.  To that end, I’ve agreed to head the Slytherin faction of ARMED, to ensure that our generation receives the advantages we rightly deserve.”

 

 “Hear, hear!” a couple of the upperclassman called out in approval.

 

Rowle smiled, tipping her sandy-haired head in their direction.  “Much like the dueling club - those of you who are in it will know what I’m talking about - we’ll be splitting the ARMED club into two groups to account for differences in ability and skill.  Each week, I’ll be delving into different spell types, but it’s up to you to decide which specific spells of that spell type you wish to learn.  I recommend that those of you who are more experienced in magic help your peers who might be less experienced.”

 

 “Will we be practicing spells here?” a third-year called out.

 

Rowle shook her head.  “No, I’m afraid not.  As most of you should know, certain types of magic are monitored in Hogwarts.  If Dark Magic is cast, Dumbledore will be alerted and it could very well result in your expulsion.  However, we will be practicing magics.  A number of you are already aware of this, but long ago, Salazar Slytherin had created a secret duelling room attached to our common room.  Any type of magic cast there - even unforgivables, is undetectable.”  Rowle smiled at the exclamations of surprise from many of the students.  “But sadly not all of you will be able to access this dueling room.  You see, Salazar Slytherin was very particular about who he wanted in his House, and the room is only admissible by way of blood.”

 

 “What do you mean?” a fourth-year asked.

 

 “I mean that the secret entrance will not open unless you apply a drop of your blood, and the room only permits those whose blood is - pure,” Rowle explained.

 

 “But then how will I be able to practice any of these magics?” the fourth-year asked.  Callidus didn’t know the older student well, but thought that he was probably a half-blood.

 

Rowle’s expression became sympathetic, but to Callidus and Harry, it looked fake.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to be resourceful and find your own means.  You  _ are _ Slytherin after all, aren’t you?”

 

 “That doesn’t seem fair,” Harry muttered.

 

Rowle seemed to have heard Harry, because she answered: “As a member of ARMED, you’ll still have access to many resources such as these spellbooks and grimoires.  You have to keep in mind that most pure-blood families have had years and years of experience with these types of magics.  Think of it as a matter of experience and safety.”

 

 “Yes, except that we’re all here to learn, so presumably, we’re close to equally experienced,” Harry retorted.  Callidus silently agreed.

 

 “I can see how you might think that,” Rowle remarked, condescendingly.  “How nice to see that you have such confidence.  But hubris and inexperience are a dangerous mix.” Rowle looked over at Draco.  “Draco, with a lineage such as your own, I highly suggest that you take on the role of overseeing your  _ friends _ .  I know that I can count on you.  I wouldn’t want for anybody to be hurt after all.”

 

At this point, Callidus went from feeling mildly annoyed to seeing red.  He balled his hands into fists, not wanting to lash out and look like an idiot in front of the other Slytherins.  How  _ dare _ Rowle talk down to them in such a manner?  Both Callidus and Harry knew that in terms of magical ability, they were just as good (if not better) than Draco.  For Rowle to give power over to Draco was like an attempt to drive a wedge between them, unbalancing their friendship.

 

He didn’t know if Rowle was correct or not.  He didn’t know if pure-bloods had some innate advantage when it came to Dark Magic, due to blood and breeding.  But now, Callidus was determined to prove that he (and Harry) could be just as good at Dark Magic as any pure-blood.  In fact, with his intellectual capabilities, he might even be able to prove it on an objective level. 

 

As for Draco, the blond was looking particularly smug, clearly preening under Rowle’s constant flattery.  Callidus really hoped that Rowle’s comments wouldn’t get to Draco’s head and cause him to act like he was better than them.  It sounded like something Draco would be susceptible to, and Callidus was already thinking of ways that he’d have to knock Draco down a few pegs.

 

Callidus barely listened to the rest of Rowle’s speech.  By the time the meeting was over, his emotions had cooled only a little.

 

 “Merlin, I swear that every time we deal with her, she gets worse,” Harry ranted as they made their way back towards their dormitory.  “It’s like it’s her life goal to be the queen viper of condescension.  She makes me want to - arrg -” Harry’s hands made a strangling gesture.

 

Draco looked puzzled.  “What do you mean?  And what are you implying?”  Obviously the idea of strangling someone would be lost on him - such uncouth behaviours were limited to muggles.

 

 “Of course you wouldn’t understand,” Callidus sighed.

 

 “I understand!” Draco defended.  “You’re both just mad that Euphemia recognizes my natural advantage.  But it’s not your fault that you were born the way you were - blame your parents for that.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco.  “Blame.  My.  Parents.”

 

 “Err - that’s not what I meant,” Draco backtracked.  “I just meant that sometimes fortune and fate favour some over others.”

 

 “If you were anyone else, I’d have hexed you silent and bawling on the floor by now, Draco,” Harry growled.

 

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco answered, clearly bewildered.  “It’s not my fault if you’re jealous.”

 

 “This is hopeless,” Callidus cut in.  “I mean, this is Draco you’re talking to, Harry.”

 

Harry sighed.  “I know.  Believe me, I know.”

 

 “What does that mean?” Draco exclaimed irritably.

 

Harry ignored him.  “But Rowle on the other hand -” His green eyes were hard, “- She’s going to regret underestimating us.  We need to find a place we can practice, so we can show her just what we’re capable of.”  He knit his brow.  “I keep feeling like there’s this secret chamber I should be aware of.  I should spend more time looking for it.  I feel like it has something to do with snakes.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “Are you sure it isn’t just a dream?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “It doesn’t feel like a dream.  I  _ know _ it’s there - somewhere in Hogwarts.  And I feel like it isn’t somewhere on the upper floors.  Merlin’s bloody beard!  I wish I could remember!”

 

 “Supposing it even is real, how are you going to have time to look for it between classes, ARMED, dueling club and Quidditch?  I mean, if it’s a secret room, it isn’t going to be easy to find,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “I’ll figure something out,” Harry replied stubbornly.  “I’ll find it.”


	13. Chapter 13

 “It’s kind of funny to see Draco and Hagrid together, isn’t it?  Do you remember last year, how much Draco  _ hated _ visiting Hagrid for tea?” Harry reminisced.

 

It was a crisp October day and the trio were near Hagrid’s hut - in fact, Callidus and Harry were leaning against the fence that marked the edge of the dragon, Norberta’s, enclosure.  As for Draco, he and Hagrid were in the enclosure, excitedly chattering and tossing scraps of food towards the agile dragon.

 

 “How could I forget,” Callidus smirked.  “He’d spend the whole walk to the hut dragging his feet and whinging, and then get slobbered on by Fang.”

 

Harry grinned.  “Fang still slobbers all over him.”

 

They fell silent for a moment, watching as Draco praised Norberta for a ‘good catch’ as she flew up in the air to snatch up a piece of brandy soaked meat.  Norberta let out of huff of smoke, as though expressing her pleasure over Draco’s compliments.  Callidus wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.  Norberta seemed to love Hagrid the best, but Draco was a close second.  The dragon didn’t allow most other people to come anywhere near her.

 

 “It’d be nice if Draco was always this laid back,” Harry sighed.  “I think our ARMED meetings are getting to his head and he thinks he’s better at magic than he actually is.”

 

 “You’re only noticing  _ now _ how annoying he can be?  You two bicker all the time,” Callidus remarked.

 

Harry laughed.  “We don’t really  _ bicker _ . I mean, I know he can be stuck up, and all that pureblood stuff really gets to his head.  But I usually like Draco.  He makes life at Hogwarts a lot more fun.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Because he’s willing to go along with pretty much  _ any _ prank you suggest?”

 

Harry grinned.  “That’s what being fun means, isn’t it?  So how is progress going on the potions anyway?”

 

Callidus and Harry rarely spoke of Callidus’s progress when Draco was around.  Callidus had opted to attempt Harry’s idea of the friendly-bomb - something that Draco scorned as being ‘weak.’  But the last thing Callidus wanted was to be expelled for creating something that did serious harm to people - and besides, a friendly-bomb was a fun project.

 

 “Well, I’ve tested the vapourization spell on numerous potions at this point,” Callidus informed him.  “Dosing is still an issue, and I have to make sure I cast a protective charm every time I test a potion.”

 

Harry laughed, his green eyes sparkling with humour.  “Yes, I remember that day you inhaled Calming Draught, and Draco kept saying things to get a reaction out of you, but you just gave him the dopiest looking smile.”

 

 “I wasn’t that bad,” Callidus defended.  “I just felt really - calm.  It seemed pointless to argue with Draco.”

 

Harry grinned.  “He got to the point where he said you were turning into a girl because you spend all your times with girls, and you just gave him this sleepy smile and said ‘yeah.’  Draco was speechless for about a full minute.”

 

  “Thank you for reminding me yet again of that humiliating moment,” Callidus drawled.  “I’m sure I would have forgotten if not for your bi-weekly reminders of the hilarity that ensued.”  Callidus shook his head as Harry chortled with amusement.  “Anyhow, you should have seen that rat I dosed with the friendliness potion that I’m trying to formulate.  It spent the whole time lying down and petting it’s own face.  I can’t quite tell if it was a success or not.”

 

Harry hummed.  “Sounds pretty successful to me.”  He grinned. “Could you imagine if people who were about to get into a fight just started to roll around on the ground, petting their own faces?”

 

Callidus smirked.  “That’s one way to stop a fight.  I do think the friendliness potion needs work - the potion I’m currently tweaking lasts for almost almost two days, which is a bit excessive.  The other issue is figuring the how to contain the potion and ensure that it vapourizes upon release.  I think that will be one of the more challenging aspects because of the potential interference of magic and the potion itself.”

 

 “How long do you figure it will -” Harry cut himself off and his eyes widened as he watched Draco and Norberta.  “Draco!  You almost got your hair singed off!  Are you okay?”

 

 “I’m alright!” Draco called back.  “Norberta just got a bit over-excited!”

 

 “She jus’ wants ter have a bit of fun, tha’s all,” Hagrid added, as he attempted to grab a hold of Norberta’s snout.  “Norberta loves Draco, don’ yeh, yeh big sweet lump!”  Hagrid proceeded to pet Norberta affectionately, ignoring the fact that his beard had been half singed away.

 

Harry shook his head.  “I don’t know how Draco can be so blind to how dangerous Norberta is.  I mean, I love her too - she’s amazing - but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a huge, fire-breathing magical lizard.”

 

 “You wouldn’t know it the way Draco talks about her,” Callidus said wryly. 

 

 “I know.  He talks about her like she’s a huge furless kitten.  Though from the way he describes how silky her scales are, she might as well have fur.”

 

 “So - like an ordinary kitten,” Callidus remarked with amusement.

 

 “Erm - something like that.  The point is that he’s completely biased when it comes to Norberta.”

 

Callidus looked over at Draco, who appeared as cheerful as ever, despite the fact that he was nearly roasted.  “I wonder how effective a friendliness potion would be on something like a dragon.”

 

Harry hummed.  “I wonder how effective it would be on someone who has the Orange Madness.  That’s where it would really be needed.”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “I can’t believe the newspapers are calling the disease the ‘Orange Madness.’  It sounds like - a promotional strategy for selling off out of season Chudley Cannon’s paraphernalia.”

 

Harry snickered.  “Yeah - for a serious disease, it does sound pretty stupid.  But I guess it makes sense because of the orange rash, and the fact that people go crazy and act all violent when they have it.  It too bad that they’re nowhere near finding a cure and have to put people in a magical stasis.  How long can a person stay alive in a magical stasis anyway?”

 

 “Quite a while,” Callidus answered.  “In theory, you could live your entire life in a magical stasis.  You’d still die a natural death.”

 

 “Huh.”  Harry fell silent and the pair of them watched Draco play with Norberta for a while.  “So -” Harry broke the silence, “should we head out and practice our ARMED spells tonight?”

 

Callidus looked towards the Forbidden Forest thoughtfully.  In the past couple of weeks, the trio had been spending more of their free time trying to find Harry’s supposed ‘secret chamber,’ but since they had had no luck, they had been sneaking out at night using the Camouflage Potion and practicing borderline Dark spells in the forest.  However, it was risky, and as they moved further into autumn, it was getting much colder.

 

In truth, since Draco was a pure-blood, he could have made use of the secret dueling room attached to the Slytherin common room.  But Draco had somehow rationalized the idea of sneaking out into the forest as somehow being an act of rebellion against Dumbledore’s ‘tyranny of Light Magic.’  As a result, Draco always joined them.

 

So far, no danger had ever befallen the trio.  Callidus wasn’t sure if it was because they never went too far into the forest, or if it was because the dangers of the forest were overstated.  Of course, he knew there were legitimate dangers in the forest - he had read all about centaurs and various other magical beasts.  But while the trio had been practicing spells in the forest, there had barely been a rustle.

 

Of course, there were other issues - there was the problem of Draco’s over-large ego, and the fact that he saw himself as the rightful supervisor of Callidus and Harry, talking down at them as though he were superior in ability and talent.  But because of Callidus’s and Harry’s dedication, and the desire to prove to Rowle that she was a fool for looking down on them, Draco’s help wasn’t actually needed.  It was just annoying, and no amount of mocking Draco seemed to stop him from his self-satisfied ‘teaching.’

 

 “It would probably be a good idea,” Callidus answered.  “It looks like it’ll be a clear night tonight, and we really need the practice if we don’t want to fall behind.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry agreed.  “But it'll be so much better once we find that secret chamber I’ve been dreaming about.  And once we do, I'm not going to let stupid Rowle use it.”

 

Callidus looked over at Harry.  “I don't know how you can be so sure of this supposed secret chamber - especially if it’s based off a dream.  I mean, of course I believe Hogwarts still has a great deal of undiscovered secrets, but how do you know that we'll be able to get away with practicing all spectrums of magic there?”

 

Harry's expression was certain.  “I just know.”

 

That evening, the twins took their doses of Camouflage and Foot-silencing Potions and sneaked out of the castle.  Many of the Slytherins were aware that the trio (as well as various other Slytherins) ventured out at night.  None of them ever tattled because of the sense of unity and solidarity between Slytherins.  However, they still had to be careful because the information could have been used as blackmail.

 

The greatest danger within Hogwarts was usually Filch and Mrs. Norris or Peeves.  But Slytherins tended to have their own dungeon shortcuts and they made it out of the castle without incident.

 

 “Brr!  It’s cold!” Harry commented.

 

Draco looked over at him.  “It’s not that bad.”

 

 “That’s because your parents would only ever purchase the best for their precious heir and all your winter clothes have built in warming charms,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “Then that’s your problem,” Draco answered.  “You two could have chosen bought your own clothes with warming charms.  It’s the most sensible thing to do.”

 

Callidus shook his head.  Since when did Draco care about being sensible?  Before long, they had reached the edge of the forest.  They only went far enough in so that their spells would not be spotted from the castle.  They might not have encountered any serious dangers so far, but why would they take the chance?

 

 “So today we’ll be practicing the variation of cold fire.  This spell is similar to bluebell flames, except that bluebell flames burn warm, while this spell burns icy cold - cold enough to kill living things if you’re dumb enough not to put it out,” Draco explained.

 

Harry huffed in aggravation.  “We  _ know _ Draco.  We were there at the ARMED meeting.  We’re not deaf, you know.”

 

Draco crossed his arms.  “If you know so much, then let’s see you perform the spell.”

 

Harry scowled.  Pointing his wand at a spot on the ground, he uttered the incantation.  There was a weak beam of light, and a tiny spark of pale blue, but it quickly vanished.

 

 “It looks to me like you’d benefit from instruction,” Draco observed smugly.

 

 “If you’re so great, let’s see you perform the spell,” Harry countered.

 

Draco’s expression was less certain now.  But then, a look of stubborn determination crossed his face, and he attempted the same spell.  However, his effort was no better than Harry’s.

 

 “Ha!” Harry barked.   “See?  You’re hardly in any position to teach us.  Merlin, it’s just  _ so annoying _ .”

 

 “Annoying?” Draco repeated, his cheeks flushing with ire.  “I try to help my own friends, and this is the thanks I get?”

 

 “We didn’t ask for your help!” Harry cried.  “We’re perfectly capable of doing magic by ourselves.  Ever since our first ARMED meeting, you’ve just been getting more aggravating!  You think you’re  _ so _ much better than us.”

 

 “Enough!” Callidus cut in.  He couldn’t think of a stupider place to get into a fight than the Forbidden Forest.  “I’m sick this.  Either duel it out like wizards or cease your mutual displays of verbal asininity and just practice the bloody cold flame spell.”

 

Both Harry and Draco glared at him, but in the end, they grudgingly performed the spell.  Harry and Draco seemed determined not to speak to one another for the rest of the night, but although their conflict was annoying, Callidus was mostly relieved.  It was better for them to work out their issues anywhere  _ other _ than the Forbidden Forest.  It was relatively rare for Harry and Draco to get into a serious quarrel.  But Callidus was sure that they’d work it out on their own later; hopefully somewhere far away from him.

 

By the time the trio returned to the castle, all of them were silent.  Callidus might have felt closer to Harry and Draco than he did to Hermione, Caiside and Ginny, but moments like these made him glad that he another group of friends he could escape to.  But if Callidus was hoping that Harry and Draco’s disagreement would be forgotten by the following day, he was proved wrong.  Callidus couldn’t help but sigh.  He should have known that with Draco’s ego, the blond wouldn’t be so forgiving.

 

Callidus ended up escaping to his Potions lab more often, letting Parkinson and Zabini take over the awkward job of making conversation in the Slytherin dungeons.  He was relieved when, a couple of days later, Harry and Draco had Quidditch practice, he could escape to see his Gryffindor friends who were hopefully acting a little more reasonably.

 

He was on his way to the library when, to his surprise, he met up with Caiside along one of the corridors.

 

He paused in his step and nodded at her as soon as she spotted him.  “Hello Caiside.  I would have thought you’d already be in the library.”

 

Caiside scowled.  “I just had detention with McGonagall.  For the entire week, in fact.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Oh?  Detention?  What did you do?”

 

Caiside crossed her arms, her dark eyes flashing angrily and her curls almost quivering in her state of aggravation.  “They deserved it!  Ugh!  It’s so unfair!”

 

 “They?”

 

 “The stupid Weasley twins!” Caiside burst out.  “They tease Ginny all the time, and since both of them have the emotional sensitivity of a pair of rusted thumbtacks, they fail to see how much it upsets her.   _ So _ , I decided that they should get a taste of their own medicine.”

 

 “What did you do?” Callidus asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

 

 “I just left a clipping of the Virginia tickler plant in their beds.”

 

 “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “I may have added some Accelerated Growing Potion to the clipping -”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows lifted upwards.

 

 “And the plant may have grown out of control and taken over their rooms and trapped the twins while they were sleeping so that by the time they awoke, they were completely tangled,” Caiside continued. 

 

 “Merlin -” Callidus muttered.

 

 “Lee Jordan had to cut them free the next morning.  The twins might have been close to turning purple from laughing so hard -”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “You’re ruthless Caiside.  You’ve given me yet another reason why I should never get on your bad side.”

 

Caiside smirked.  “You’d do well to remember it.  I guess we better get to the library before Ginny talks Hermione’s ear off about Harry.”  Caiside shook her head.

 

Callidus snorted with amusement.

 

 “Though as annoying as that can be, I can’t imagine how Hermione survived last year.”

 

 “Last year?  What are you talking about?” Callidus queried.

 

Caiside gave him a look, as if he had just uttered something of unimaginable stupidity, and she was now reassessing her whole opinion of him.  “Tell me you’re not serious.”

 

 “What are you talking about?  What happened last year?  As far as I know, no one was trying to kill Hermione.”

 

Caiside’s expression became even more incredulous.  “Oh Merlin.  You  _ are _ serious.  You have no clue, do you?”

 

Callidus felt his irritation began to grow.  “Must you always speak in such ambiguities?  Just tell me!”

 

Caiside gave him an assessing look that was surprisingly cold, and Callidus felt a sudden sense of unease.  He found himself wondering if he really wanted to know what Caiside was about to reveal.  But Callidus had never been one to shy away from knowledge, even if it was unpleasant.  He considered it a mark of intelligence to be able to handle difficult or upsetting information.

 

 “Well, as you may or may not be aware, Hermione didn’t really have many friends last year aside from you, Harry and Draco,” Caiside began.

 

 “Yes.  I’m aware.  Where are you going with this?”

 

 “Have you given  _ any _ thought at all as to how that might have affected Hermione?” Caiside questioned.

 

Callidus furrowed his brows.  “Well, I’m sure it was hard at first, but she spent most of her time in the library anyway.”  Callidus really hoped this wouldn’t turn into some ridiculous talk about  _ feelings _ .  The very notion made him want to cringe.

 

Caiside sighed heavily, as if she were talking to a particularly dull-witted infant.  “Yes.  Hard is one way I’d put it.  But I can see that you’re not getting what I’m saying.  Let me ask you this then.  Have you thought about what it would be like to be a  _ Gryffindor _ and have no friends in Gryffindor and have your only friends be  _ Slytherins _ ?  Or if that’s too difficult to grasp, think of what your life would be like if you had no friends in Slytherin, and spent all your time with only me, Ginny and Hermione.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “Hermione never told me she was having a hard time in Gryffindor.”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes.  “You really think she’s the sort of person who would spill out her feelings to you three?  Were you really  _ that _ welcoming of her?”

 

 “We welcomed Hermione,” Callidus answered defensively.  “And besides, I would have thought that the noble and chivalrous Gryffindors would be above turning against one of their own lions.”

 

Caiside gave him a disbelieving look.  “What universe do you live in?  Have you  _ met _ any of the Weasleys?  From the way Ron talks about the lot of you, I’d think that you must have had  _ some _ personal encounters.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  “Ron Weasley has been bothering Hermione?  That particular weasel isn’t fit to lick the bottom of her boots.”

 

Caiside shrugged.  “It’s not like any of the girls are any better either.  Lavender and Parvati are vicious airheads who have spent the last year trying to completely smear Hermione’s reputation.  It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that they’re jealous - I mean, I’ve heard them talking about how fit they think Harry and Draco are - and their taste is even questionable enough to think that you look all right - that is, whenever you bother to clean up your hair.  Anyway, it’s obvious that they can’t stand the fact that Hermione is friendly with the three of you.  Their only saving grace is that the rumours they’ve tried to start are too stupid to be believable.”

 

 “They talk about me?” Callidus asked, completely surprised by the idea.

 

 “Ugh!  Don’t get a big head about it.  They spend far more time talking about Harry.  And that’s not the point!  The point is Hermione.” Caiside gave him a hard glare.

 

A feeling of guilt arose in Callidus’s gut.  In truth, he hadn’t given much thought to how Hermione’s life was like.  He did recall her being upset last Hallowe’en, and then there was the weird incident with that Ravenclaw Lisa Turpin.  But Callidus had been preoccupied with his potions work, and with the strange occurances around the school.  How could he have known that things were so hard for Hermione?

 

Caiside, who seemed to have had read the expression on Callidus’s face, shook her head.  “Boys,” she muttered.  “You’re all so oblivious.”

 

They walked the rest of the way to the library in silence, but just before they entered, Caiside paused, and Callidus gave her a questioning look.  He already had enough of a weight on his emotions, and a part of him was expecting the worst.

 

 “Look, you’re not a bad wizard,” Caiside clarified, sounding more sympathetic.  “You’re actually all right, as far as wizards go.  It’s just - try and think about what it means to be a decent friend, all right?”

 

Callidus nodded.  With the conflict between Harry and Draco, the last thing he wanted to deal with was more friendship drama.  And he knew that Caiside was right - Hermione had always been a good-hearted person and she deserved to have good friends.


	14. Chapter 14

If Callidus had thought that Harry and Draco’s issues would blow over, he was soon proven wrong.  During their Quidditch practices, when they theoretically should have been able to vent their more aggressive emotions, Harry and Draco had instead become more competitive against one another, amplifying their row.  It wasn’t awful - it wasn’t as if their friendship had snapped and they hated each other.  They were at least speaking to one another, but now, the underlying feelings of rivalry had intensified, whereas before, rivalry between Harry and Draco was almost non-existent. 

 

Their conversation had become a bit sharper, and they needled one another much more than before.  And of course, since their main outlet was Quidditch talk, Callidus had to endure more discussions of Quidditch than ever, but now with a more combative undertone.  Callidus wished things could go back to how they were before.  The new competitive streak between Harry and Draco was a bit exhausting to endure.  On the other hand, he found himself appreciating Hermione, Caiside and even Ginny more than before.  Callidus didn’t know if it was because of the influence of Hermione, but the three Gryffindors tended to have pretty intelligent conversations.

 

Hallowe’en was soon coming up, and this year, the trio wouldn’t be practicing anything for Samhain.  The reason was because the 31st fell on the weekend, and Draco would be returning to Malfoy manor to celebrate with his family.  The same was true for many of the other pureblood Slytherins.  It was rather unusual for most students to return to their families for Samhain, but this year, there was a newfound sense of fear that had been spread by the Orange Madness disease.  Families wanted their children to be close by on important occasions like Samhain.  

 

If the trio’s relationship had been the way it was before their quarrel in the forest, then in all likelihood, Draco would have spent the past few days trying to cajole Callidus and Harry into coming with him and celebrating Samhain at Malfoy manor.  Instead, Draco spent his time talking about how much better it would be to celebrate a real wizarding holiday instead of a ridiculous muggle one.

 

 “We might not be celebrating Samhain but I warrant we’ll get a better selection of candy than you will, Draco” Harry pointed out, as he attempted to apply an even layer of fertilizer to his mandrake plant in Herbology.  It was their last class before the weekend, and most students were too excited about Hallowe’en to be doing a good job.  Thankfully, fertilizing mandrakes wasn’t dangerous.

 

 “Ha!  Have you  _ seen _ the delicacies that we serve at the manor?  Nothing that they serve at Hogwarts can compare,” Draco retorted.

 

 “I’d take treacle tart over anything served at the manor.”

 

 “Your tastes are so plebeian,” Draco said with disdain.

 

 “Is this what you two’ve come to?” Callidus cut in with irritation.  “Having a disagreement over sweets?  Just duel it out so I don’t have to suffer any more of your churlishness.”

 

 “He’s the one who won’t shut up about how great everything is at the manor,” Harry objected.

 

 “It’s not my fault if you’re jealous,” Draco retaliated.  

 

 “Boys!” Professor Sprout interrupted, ambling over to check on their progress.  “How’s your mandrake coming along?  It looks like it could use a more even application of fertilizer on that side -” she gestured to one area of the pot covered by an overhanging leaf.  “The mandrakes need plenty of nutrients if they are to fully mature into healthy plants.”

 

“Yes, Professor Sprout,” the trio chimed, returning to their work.

 

Callidus was glad when the day was finally over.  Draco had no real need to pack for the weekend - he made use of the floo in Professor Slughorn’s office, and when he was gone, Callidus felt like a weight had been lifted.  While secretly, he thought that Harry was being just as belligerent  as Draco was, Callidus found it easier to deal with just one of his friends rather than both at the same time.

 

Because of Hallowe’en, the professors had been generous and had given a lighter-than-usual homework load to the students.  It meant that rather than studying and writing essays all weekend, Callidus and Harry had a great deal of free time.

 

 “What do you feel like doing today?” Harry asked after they had readied themselves and dressed the following day, which was Hallowe’en morning.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I haven’t given it much thought.  Perhaps go to the library and study for a bit.”

 

Harry frowned.  “The library?  I wouldn’t mind seeing Hermione for a bit - it feels like we rarely get a chance to talk these days - but I refuse to spend my entire weekend in the library.  Hmm.  Why don’t we go looking for that secret chamber?  We’ve already explored pretty much every corner of the dungeon so we can start on the first floor.  I still can’t believe that Hogwarts dungeon has a  _ real _ dungeon.  I guess it’s called the dungeons for a reason but still - seeing those cells and those chains was pretty creepy.”

 

 “Indeed,” Callidus agreed.  “I think what made it worse was that it was so clean.  One would think that they’re ready to lock someone up at any moment.”

 

 “Like people with the Orange Madness?” Harry suggested.

 

 “I’m fairly certain that there are rules against that sort of thing.  If anyone was affected, they’d just put them in a stasis and keep them in the hospital wing.”

 

Harry hummed.  “I s’pose you’re right.  C’mon.  Let’s get breakfast first, and then we can go exploring.”

 

The owl post was usually much less active on weekends than on weekdays so Callidus was surprised to see a letter landing next to his plate of food at breakfast.  It wasn’t from Wystan, but instead was from Madam Filodoxos.  Callidus wondered what his foster parent had to say.  He unfolded the letter and read it.

 

 “What’s that about?” Harry inquired between bites of toast.

 

 “It’s from Madam Filodoxos,” Callidus explained.  “Mostly just well-wishes for Samhain and a reminder to try the spells from the book that she gave me.”

 

 “Book?”

 

Callidus opened his mouth to reply, but then it occurred to him that Madam Filodoxos had told him not to speak of the book.  It seemed ridiculous - the spells in the book were Old and Dark Magics, but none of them were any worse than what they were learning in ARMED club.  He figured Madam Filodoxos was just trying to protect her own name.  

 

 “Yes,” Callidus explained, decided that Harry could definitely be trusted.  “A book on Old Magics.  Interesting stuff - we could probably learn some of the spells as part of ARMED.  I actually almost forgot all about it.”

 

 “Spells?” Harry perked up.  “Sounds interesting!  If it’ll give us an edge against Rowle, we should definitely try them out.”

 

Callidus nodded in agreement.  They finished their breakfast quickly, and set out to find Harry’s secret chamber.

 

While most people would consider exploring to be a fun activity, searching for secret chambers was much more tedious.  Callidus and Harry still discovered some interesting things about the castle (such as the disturbing sight of the cells within the dungeon), but for the most part, their searches led to dead ends.  On top of that, the first floor of Hogwarts was much more populated than the dungeons, and they kept receiving odd looks from students who were wondering what they were doing.  More than once, Callidus heard people whisper: ‘Those Slytherins are up to something.’  The one benefit to being a Slytherin in this case was that no one dared ask them any questions. 

 

To make matters more challenging, even if there was a secret chamber, how could they reveal it?  What if a spell was required?  Or a certain gesture or ingredient or password?  For whatever reason, Harry was convinced that the password was extremely simple.  It didn’t make sense to Callidus, but Harry believed that all he needed to do was to tell the secret entrance to ‘open.’  Callidus had his doubts, but Harry just brushed them off.

 

They ventured from room to room, keeping their eyes out for anything unusual that might mark a secret entrance.  Callidus could hear Harry muttering: ‘open - open.  Open!’ repeatedly.  As for Callidus, he randomly tapped at the decorative stonework or the portraits with his wand.  Every so often, he would say ‘open’ to appease Harry, but he felt foolish doing it.  It was a bit of a relief when it was finally lunch, and they could take a break from talking to walls.  The idea of a secret chamber where they could practice any type of magic sounded fantastic, but Callidus would have been a lot more enthusiastic if he had the same feeling of certitude that Harry did.

 

As they ate their meal at the Slytherin table, Parkinson, who sat across from them complained about their absence.

 

 “What have you two been doing?” she demanded.  “It’s so  _ boring _ with all of you gone.”

 

Callidus arched an eyebrow.  “You prefer to listen to Harry and Draco bicker?”

 

 “We don’t bicker,” Harry protested.

 

Parkinson laughed.  “Oh Harry.  You’re such a dear.  You and Draco are just so adorable.”

 

 “What do you mean ‘adorable?’” Harry asked hotly.  “I  _ was _ going to tell you what we’ve been doing, but now I don’t think I want to.”

 

 “That’ll show her,” Zabini drawled before taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

 

Callidus couldn’t help sighing.  Harry’s stubbornness could make him so childish at times.  “We’re looking for a secret chamber that will allow us to practice - magic.  Mostly to spite Rowle.”

 

Parkinson perked up.  “Spite Euphie?  Why didn’t you say so?  I’m almost inclined to help.”

 

Harry tilted his head.  “You’d help?  Really, Pansy?”

 

 “This sounds labourous,” Zabini observed.  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you, Harry.”

 

 “Labour?” Parkinson echoed distastefully.  “Oh Merlin, no.  Labour is for house-elves and the like.”

 

Zabini smirked.  “The lady hath spoken.”

 

 “But it’s  _ fun _ !” Harry argued.  “And just think of all the things we could do if we had our own secret room where Rowle wasn’t allowed!”

 

 “Harry, learning people’s secrets and spending galleons is fun,” Parkinson asserted.  “Running around the castle poking at random holes - well - let’s just say that I’d rather leave that sort of fun to you.  But if you do find that secret room, I’ll be there to celebrate by your side.”

 

Harry blinked.  “Er - all right then.” 

 

After they had eaten, Callidus and Harry decided they would continue their search for a couple more hours, but on their way out of the Great Hall, they bumped into Hermione, Caiside and Ginny.

 

Hermione smiled warmly.  “Oh, hello Callidus, Harry!”

 

 “Hello,” Callidus nodded, while Harry said a cheerful: “Hi!”

 

Callidus noticed Ginny had turned a bright shade of red upon seeing Harry, and her body language immediately changed to become shy and awkward.  Meanwhile, Caiside was giving Ginny a look and rolling her eyes.

 

 “How have you been?” Hermione asked.  “I feel like it’s been a while since we’ve last spoken, Harry.”

 

However, before Harry could reply, they were interrupted by a loud sound like a mix between a grunt and roar of frustration coming from the foot of the marble stairs across the entrance hall.  The group looked towards the stairs, and all of them jumped when a shrill scream cut through the air.

 

Because it was the lunch hour, there were a great deal of students coming and going, and none of them had an idea of what was going on.  But the screaming had caused a feeling of fear to ripple down their spines and many students were looking around in confusion, trying to get a sense of where the threat was coming from.  

 

There were shouts of confusion, and more screams, and Callidus thought he heard someone say: “It’s the Orange Madness!  It’s here at Hogwarts!”  Those words were enough to set off a full blown scene of pandemonium.  Callidus and Harry could no longer stay in place, but had been caught up in the mob of students, frantically shoving each other as they desperately sought some sort of safety.  As the students desperately tried to move away, Callidus caught sight of a brown-haired student near the stairs lunging at another student who was trying to ascend the staircase.  The student screamed, kicking the brown-haired student in a bid to escape, but whoever it was, they seemed impervious to the pain and instead, made another loud guttural sound.

 

Callidus could hear one of the students, probably a prefect, calling out: “Calm down!  Please, everyone!  Return to your common rooms!”  But the the words had no effect, and the prefect seemed to give up.  Students who had been eating were now pouring out of the Great Hall in confusion.  Some were trying to push their way up towards the stairs, while others were desperate to avoid it.  One of the students was claiming that the Great Hall wasn’t safe - another was saying: “No, look!  It’s here!  We have to get out of here!”

 

Callidus had lost sight of Hermione, Caiside and Ginny in all of the chaos.  He felt a moment of worry for them, but it was an effort to even remain near to Harry.  Both of them were still too shocked to be afraid.  All their energy was taken up by trying not to be overwhelmed by the crowd.  With the mass of students spilling out of the Great Hall, it took all of Callidus’s effort to weave past the crowd, towards the staircase that led down to the dungeons.

 

 “Who’s the one who’s infected?” Harry called out to Callidus.  “Did you see?”

 

But before Callidus could answer, he heard Dumbledore’s amplified voice calling out: “Students!  Calmly make your way back to your common rooms!”

 

Callidus wasn’t sure if Dumbledore had used any sort of magic, but the headmaster’s voice seemed to settle the crowd, and although the students still pushed, there was a feeling of order amidst the chaos and the students separated and made their way to their respective Houses.  Callidus managed to stay by Harry’s side and they followed the flow of students down to the Slytherin Dungeons, where a sixth year prefect awaited them, crossing their names off a list.

 

All around them, Callidus could hear the Slytherins talking in a panic.

 

 “Merlin - I can’t believe it’s here -”

 

 “Are you sure?  You’re sure it’s the Orange Madness?  I didn’t see anything.”

 

 “Circe, they never should have let mudbloods into this school!  This is all their fault!”

 

 “I heard that someone was killed -”

 

 “- definitely a mudblood -”

 

 “Why hasn’t Dumbledore done anything to stop this?”

 

 “I’m not staying here at Hogwarts any longer.  I refuse to stay at a school that admits those mudbloods!  They can’t keep me here!”

 

 “- can’t be the Orange Madness!  I refuse to believe it!”

 

 “They’re all going to be infected!  They’ll take us down with them!”

 

 “I saw it with my own eyes!  It was one of the second years, I swear!”

 

 “- blood everywhere -”

 

 “- practically turned into a rabid beast -”

 

 “It’s all the mudbloods’ fault!”

 

The atmosphere was becoming unbearable.  Callidus and Harry exchanged a look, and wove past the milling students, entering into the relative sanctuary of their dormitories.

 

 “Merlin, that was insane.  Did you see anything?” Harry questioned, once they were sitting on their beds.

 

Callidus frowned, feeling troubled, not only by the strange events in the entrance hall, but also the sentiments of the Slytherins.  “I saw one of the students attacking another student.  I think it was a Hufflepuff, but I’m not sure.  I don’t know who it was though.”

 

 “Do you really think it was the Orange Madness?”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what happened.  But whoever that student was, he was acting strange and aggressive.  His behaviour seemed - unnatural.”

 

 “If we had the friendliness bomb, we could have ended things right then and there -” Harry mused.

 

Callidus felt suddenly defensive.  “The potion and vapourization work.  It’s the container that’s the difficult part.  I’ve been experimenting with various methods, but I only have so much time and resources.”

 

 “I’m not trying to say that you should have finished the project by now,” Harry clarified.  “It’s just - you know - it was kind of scary how quickly everyone panicked.”

 

Callidus pursed his lips.  “Yes.  Crowds can often have minds of their own.”

 

They spoke for a while longer, but eventually, they were interrupted by the entry of Zabini and Nott.

 

 “There you two are,” Zabini remarked.  “Did you hear about what happened?”

 

 “We saw some of it,” Harry answered.

 

Zabini’s eyes widened.  “You were there?”

 

 “We saw one student acting aggressively in the entrance hall,” Callidus informed him.

 

 “So it _ was _ the Orange Madness?” Nott queried.

 

Harry shook his head.  “We don’t know for sure.”

 

Zabini hummed.  “There’s a rumour going around that Lockhart was the one to take the infected student down.”

 

Callidus and Harry’s expressions were disbelieving.  “Lockhart,” Harry echoed flatly.

 

Zabini smirked.  “I know.  I highly doubt those rumours are true.  Flitwick and Dumbledore may have had a hand in helping out.  I heard that quite a number of students were injured, but I have a feeling that much of the fault of that is due to the madness of the crowd, and not the madness of the disease itself.”

 

 “Do you know who was injured?” Callidus wondered, worrying once again about Hermione, Caiside and Ginny.

 

 “I’m afraid not,” Zabini replied.

 

 “Does anyone know who the person is that initiated attacking?” Callidus asked.

 

Zabini shrugged.  “Most people here seem to think it’s a mu - muggleborn.  But some have claimed it’s a half-blood and one person seems to think it was a pureblood who was infected.”

 

Harry scowled.  “People seem to become really stupid when they’re scared.”

 

 “I won’t dispute that,” Zabini calmly agreed.

 

 “I surmise that it’s their survival instincts taking over,” Nott speculated.  “I’ve read about it of course, but it’s another thing to see it first hand.”

 

 “To be honest, I really hope that whoever it was isn’t a muggleborn.  If that -” Harry gestured to the door, “- is how people react based on a rumour - then -” Harry frowned.  

 

Callidus nodded.  “Yes - it’d be like a war within the school.  It would be bad.”

 

Nott frowned.  “That’s an - interesting perspective.”

 

Zabini raised his eyebrows.  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to pull your nose out of your books and take a look at the real world every so often, Nott.”

 

Nott shrugged.  “What can I say.  The world can be a pretty ugly place.”

 

Sadly, none of the other Slytherins could disagree with him.


	15. Chapter 15

The following day, the mood at Hogwarts was sombre.  Due to the bizarre and frightening attack in the entrance hall, and the uncertainty of whether or not it was the Orange Madness, the students were subdued and mistrustful, not wanting to speak to anyone outside their closest circles.  Because of the alarming and confusing events, the Hallowe’en feast had been cancelled, and all the students took their meals in their common rooms.  The festive mood of Hallowe’en had quickly been ruined.

 

Wild rumours continue to abound, and the students became nervous about socializing in any of the common areas of the castle.  Everyone had heard that the disease was contagious, and although reports in the  _ Daily Prophet _ were conflicting, most students preferred to err on the side of caution.

 

That day, Callidus and Harry debated whether they ought to stay in the Slytherin dungeons, or head up to the Great Hall for their breakfast.  Because they were half-bloods, many of the other students were already looking at them with suspicion, which was unsettling within their own house.  Both of them felt like they had to watch their backs at every moment.  However, if they did go up to the Great Hall, it would probably only make things worse.  The Slytherins might be suspicious now, but being amidst the other students would amplify that suspicion and turn it into assumptions.

 

There was something awful about feeling so restricted within Hogwarts.  It was so easy to forget the outside world while one was in school, but moments like this caused reality to burst through with merciless brutality.

 

In the end, Callidus and Harry remained within the common room and Hogwarts’ house-elves brought food down to the dungeons for the students to eat.  The house-elves came with not only food but with the mail as well.  Owls generally kept out of the dungeons, disliking the underground domain.  But after yesterday's strange occurrences, the school was inundated with letters from worried parents.

 

Both Callidus and Harry were surprised to see that they had received letters.  From Hermione, they received a note, letting them know that the three Gryffindors were fine, and to send word about their well-being since they had gotten separated after the chaos.  Callidus had received another letter from Madam Filodoxos that was fussier than the previous letter.  She reassured him that if he would prefer to stay in Wimbourne instead of Hogwarts, he was more than welcome.

 

And finally, both Callidus and Harry each got a letter from Draco.

 

Curious to see what Draco had to say, Callidus opened the letter, noticing how thick and expensive the parchment looked.

 

_ Callidus,  _ the letter read, and Callidus was surprised by how rushed Draco's handwriting appeared.  It was almost as if he wrote the letter in a panic.

 

_ Are you and Harry all right?  Write me back  _ _ IMMEDIATELY _ _.  I heard that the disease affected a half-blood, and Merlin, it better not be one of you, _

 

_ Draco _

 

Callidus looked over at Harry.  “What did he say to you?”

 

Harry handed his letter over to Callidus, while Callidus gave Harry his letter.

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ You better not have been infected by the disease.   _ _ WRITE ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS! _ _  I'll never forgive you if you get sick and die, _

 

_ Draco _

 

 “Merlin,” Callidus muttered.  “He sounds - upset.”

 

 “To say the least,” Harry agreed.  “We better write him.”

 

After writing a letter to Draco and Madam Filodoxos as well as a note to Hermione, Callidus called for a house-elf to deliver the messages.

 

When that was done, Callidus and Harry were unsure of what to do.  In the end, though Harry disliked the whole idea, they ended up working ahead on their homework.

 

In the afternoon, Professor Slughorn came by the Slytherin dungeons to offer news.  The students swarmed around him, desperate for answers and Slughorn gently attempt to extricate himself from the masses.

 

 “Yes, yes, I understand that you're all worried.  Please quiet down for a bit and I'll tell you all I know,” Slughorn placated.  The students quieted down and looked towards their Head of House expectantly.

 

Slughorn looked from student to student.  “As I'm sure many of you are aware, we were struck by a rather unfortunate event yesterday, but you’ll be relieved to hear that the situation has been contained, and you are safe to leave the common room.”

 

 “What happened?” A student called out.  “Was it the Orange Madness?”

 

 “Well -” Slughorn looked slightly uneasy, and the lighting of the dungeon gave his complexion an almost sickly look.  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”

 

The Slytherins burst out in fearful concern and questions all at once, many of them demanding to know what was to be done.  Slughorn appeared overwhelmed, looking like a portly penguin in the face of a hoard of ravenous predators.  He raised his palms up as he attempted yet again to calm the students.

 

 “Now, now,” he said, with a slight tremulous note to his voice.  “No need to get so worked up.  Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey have assured us that the problem is well in hand.  No one has been seriously injured, and the infected student has been placed in a magical quarantine, which, as I’m sure you all know, cannot be penetrated by any pathogens.  Hogwarts has always prided itself on being one of the safest places in Britain, and that remains as true as ever.”

 

The students asked several more questions, which Slughorn did his best to answer.  But in the end, even if they did not feel entirely safe, they knew they couldn’t remain in the Slytherin dungeons forever.  

 

Slughorn’s information convinced several of the students that it would be worthwhile to leave the dungeons and visit other parts of the castle.  Wanting to know how Hermione, Caiside and Ginny were doing, Callidus and Harry decided that they would venture out.  It was better than being cooped up in the common room with a bunch of scared and paranoid Slytherins.

 

They searched the Great Hall first, which was much emptier than usual, and in the end, they found Hermione and the other two girls in the library. 

 

 “We should have just searched the library first,” Harry opined.

 

 “Yes,” Callidus agreed.  “But - walking around the school at least gave us a sense of the general mood.  It’s a bit startling to see how quickly the fear and distrust has spread.  Though I suppose their fears are warranted.”

 

They walked up to Hermione’s table, and pulling up some extra chairs, they sat down.

 

 “I’m so relieved that you two are all right,” Hermione informed them after they all said their greetings.  “After we got separated in the entrance hall, I was afraid that you might have been injured in the crowd.”

 

 “There’s a lot of people in the infirmary because of it,” Ginny piped up.  But when she realized that her comment had caused everyone’s eyes to fall on her (or more specifically, Harry’s eyes), she turned a bright beet red and stared down at her hands, letting her hair fall across her face like a curtain.

 

 “How do you know?” Harry asked, doing his best to ignore Ginny’s abashed behaviour.

 

 “A lot of people didn’t end up returning to our common room,” Caiside told him, when it was clear that Ginny was now too shy and embarrassed to answer.

 

 “It caused a lot of panic in Gryffindor Tower,” Hermione explicated.  “People thought that the person who had been infected by the Orange Madness had injured all the missing people.  There was - well - an outcry about it.  Professor McGonagall had to explain that the infected student had really only minorly hurt two people, and the rest of the injuries were due to the crowd.  But that wasn’t until later.”

 

 “A couple of the older girls claimed that they saw someone falling and being trampled,” Caiside added.  “It sounded horrible.  And people were tripping and falling on the stairs, and such.”

 

 “Trampled?” Harry echoed, aghast.  

 

Hermione nodded, looking upset.  “I know.  It’s horrible, isn’t it?  I never thought I’d hear of something like that happening here at Hogwarts.  It was made worse by the fact that it happened around noon, and so many people were in the Great Hall.  It just exacerbated the situation.”

 

 “That and all the confusion,” Caiside agreed.

 

 “And now no one seems to dare associate with anyone in the other Houses,” Hermione added.

 

 “Have any of you tried speaking to any of the other students?” Callidus wondered.

 

The three girls shook their head.  “No,” Hermione answered, “But we’ve heard some of the other students talking about it.  Especially the students who have boyfriends or girlfriends in one of the other Houses.  There is apparently a lot of hostility.”

 

 “From what I’ve heard, the Ravenclaws aren’t as bad, but apparently the Hufflepuffs have really closed up,” Caiside elaborated.  “They say that the student who was infected was a Hufflepuff.”

 

Callidus hummed.  “Yes, from what I remember seeing, I thought it might have been a Hufflepuff that started attacking the other students.”

 

Caiside raised her eyebrows.  “You actually saw it?  It got chaotic so fast that none of us saw anything.  And by the time we were up the stairs the crowd was too thick to know what was going on.”

 

 “I didn’t see much,” Callidus admitted.  “Just someone with brown hair attacking another student.”

 

 “Ahh.”  Caiside and the rest of the group fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

 

 “What d’you reckon would happen if the situation got worse?” Harry asked, his expression troubled.  “Would they close down the school?”

 

Hermione frowned.  “I believe they would have to.  If the situation got severe enough, I don’t see how they’d be able to contain it.  Especially with so many people confined to one structure, even if it is an immense structure.”

 

 “Merlin,” Harry muttered.  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

The rest of the group nodded their heads in agreement.  It was a terrifying thought.

 

That evening, many of the Slytherins who had left for Samhain returned, but not all of them.  Callidus and Harry wondered whether Draco would be one of the students who would return; Narcissa Malfoy was extremely protective of her son after all.  It would have been strange to not see Draco again, and both Callidus and Harry were surprisingly relieved when Draco finally enter the common room.  Despite the dark mood in Hogwarts, seeing their friend/brother lightened both their moods.

 

 “Draco!” Harry called out brightly when he spotted the blond, who walked over to their spot in the common room, and flung himself on the sofa next to Harry.

 

 “Merlin!” Draco expressively exhaled.  “I can’t believe someone was infected with the Orange Madness while I was gone.  No one seemed to know anything except that it was either a muggleborn or half-blood, and that they were one of the younger students. There were so many conflicting rumours.  Is it true that there’s over twenty people in the infirmary?”

 

 “Uhh - I don’t think so,” Harry answered.  “But no one knows for sure.  But most of the injuries were because of the crowds.”

 

 “Oh.  I thought they had been viciously mauled or something,” Draco admitted.  “My mother didn’t want me to come back, but I told her I wanted to, and in the end, my father sided with me.  Thankfully.  I told her that if it gets bad enough, I’ll return to the manor anyway.  And you two should come with me if it happens.  There’s no way I’d leave Hogwarts again without you.”

 

 “You sounded rather panicked in your letters,” Callidus remarked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

 

Draco scowled.  “Well, why wouldn’t I be?  You’re my friends - well - brothers.”

 

Harry grinned and nudged Draco’s shoulder with his own.  “It’s just nice to know that you care.  Besides, we care about you too.”

 

Draco flushed pink all the way to the tip of his ears.  

 

Callidus snickered.  “You’re embarrassing him, Harry.”

 

 “I’m not embarrassed,” Draco protested.  “Well - I’m embarrassed for  _ you two _ for being such - such  _ girls _ about the whole thing.”

 

Callidus and Harry exchanged glances before smirking.  But both of them were glad that Draco was back and no longer acting like a prickly bundle of wounded pride.

 

 “Anyway, how was your Samhain?” Harry inquired.  “They cancelled the Hallowe’en feast here.  But the house-elves brought food to the common room so at least I still got to have my treacle tart.”

 

Draco proceeded to tell them about his Samhain in rather elaborate detail, describing how it was  _ so much _ better than any muggle tradition could hope to be.  Callidus and Harry just made polite noises of agreement.  But eventually, Draco changed the topic and Callidus perked up with interest.

 

 “There were quite a number of my father’s associates visiting, so news didn’t reach us until we had finished the main ceremony,” Draco told them.  “It was quite a surprise when owls began to show up carrying letters from Hogwarts.  That’s how we found out about someone being infected with the Orange Madness, by the way.  After my father heard about the stuff that’s been happening at Hogwarts, he later mentioned that he’s drafting up a new bill.”

 

 “A new bill?  About what?” Callidus asked.

 

Draco shrugged.  “Something about muggleborns.  I wasn’t really paying attention.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “You weren’t paying attention.  Why did you even bring it up then?”

 

 “I wasn’t paying attention because it was  _ boring _ ,” Draco said defensively.  “Besides, I had other things on my mind, like whether the two of you were still alive.  And I thought I’d bring it up because of how much good my father’s last bill did.”

 

Callidus arched his brow.  “So you just wanted to brag about your father.”

 

Draco shot him an irritated look, but before he could say anything, Harry spoke.   “The Orange Madness hasn’t actually killed anyone.”

 

 “Yet,” Draco added pessimistically.

 

 “You don’t remember  _ anything _ your father mentioned about this bill he’s writing?” Callidus prodded.

 

Draco huffed.  “I don’t remember much.  There might be something like a - hm - list or something.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “A registry?”

 

Draco made an impatient noise.  “Something like that.  I think.  I don’t know - why don’t you just ask my father yourself if you’re so interested?”

 

 “Frankly, I’d rather not.  If it is a registry -” Callidus knit his brows, “hm.  The idea is a bit disturbing.”  Callidus found himself thinking about Dumbledore and how the old man had spoken about people being demonized and turned into scapegoats.  Surely it wouldn’t go that far, would it?  And yet, Callidus could see it happening.  

 

 “What’s so bad about keeping track of people on a list?” Draco scornfully questioned.  “If it keeps us safe, isn’t that more important?  I think my father knows what he’s doing.”

 

 “I’m sure he does,” Callidus drawled.

 

 “How does people being on a list keep anyone safe?” Harry pondered.  “What kind of list would it even be?”

 

 “I don’t know!  I really wasn’t paying that much attention!” Draco exclaimed. 

 

 “Would they only be keeping track of victims?  Or would it be broader, such as tracking muggleborns?” Callidus mused.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “A list to track muggleborns?  But they  _ know _ that the disease doesn’t only affect muggleborns - there’s been several half-bloods infected too.”

 

 “Yes, but there are people out there who would be all too happy to know where each and every single muggleborn in Britain is,” Callidus pointed out.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if they used the fear that this disease has generated to try and push through a registry like that.”

 

 “What would they even do if people’s names were on a registry?”Harry asked.

 

Callidus’s expression became pensive.  “Well, after Hermione told me about the last major epidemic in 1918, I started reading a bit about it.  For a time - almost a decade, I think - they put all known squibs on a list.  When the epidemic became more severe, people found out where the squibs lived, and would cast hexes and curses at them, or use spells like  _ bombarda  _ or other blasting and exploding curses to damage their homes.  People tried to forcibly remove squibs from wizarding society.  And not only that, but their children were harassed as well.  Squibs couldn’t find work anywhere, and weren’t permitted into shops.  It was - well - a bad time to be a squib.”

 

Harry blinked.  “Wow.  That’s -” he frowned, “- awful.  Really terrible.”

 

Draco scowled.  “I’m sure they don’t mean to do that.  It’s probably just going to be a list of people already infected.”

 

 “Frankly, I don’t think they should even be making a list at all,” Callidus opined.  “They’re better off focusing on just finding the cure.”

 

 “Yeah, but until then, they need a way to keep people safe,” Draco answered stubbornly.

 

Callidus could tell that Draco wouldn’t be swayed - especially since Draco tended to think that his father could do no wrong.  Not wanting to cause conflict so soon after Draco returned, Callidus shrugged and changed the topic.  As Draco had said, he hadn’t really been paying attention to what his father was saying.  There was no sense getting worried if it turned out to be nothing.


	16. Chapter 16

In the days that followed, the feelings of fear and edginess began to subside, and Hogwarts started to feel a bit more normal.  The students that had been injured in the crowd were all released, and when questioned, most of them admitted that they hadn’t seen the infected person.  But of the two people who actually had been attacked by the infected person, they had told their friends of terror of that event, and those friends in turn told other people.  When the Hogwarts students were comfortable enough to speak to those in other Houses, the gossip spread even faster.  The incident had been likened to a werewolf attack, which had only increased the students’ feelings of horror towards the disease.

 

Though the professors had remained hushed about the whole subject, the students soon learned that the infected had been a half-blood Hufflepuff named Wayne Hopkins.  The trio remembered the boy from some of their classes, but they hadn’t really spoken to him.  Nonetheless, the confirmation that the infected was someone in their year, and someone they had personally encountered, was disturbing.

 

Rumours abounded.  How had the pathogen entered Hogwarts and how had Hopkins gotten ill?  Was it somehow his own fault, like many of the Slytherins insinuated?  Or was Hopkins blameless, like the Hufflepuffs maintained?  It was all anyone wanted to talk about.  Many of the students fervently hoped that the issue wasn’t serious.  It was easier to believe that the adults had the matter under control.  But there were many other students - mostly Slytherins - who were eager to spread fears and paranoia.  One of the most prevalent beliefs was that it was Dumbledore’s fault.  The most bigoted and fear-mongering Slytherins were all too happy to tell their pureblood friends that the muggle-loving headmaster was dooming them all.  After all, it was Dumbledore’s fault that muggleborns were allowed in a prestigious school like Hogwarts.

 

Of course, Callidus and Harry did not subscribe to such beliefs.  Anyone who paid attention to the news would have known that the situation outside of Hogwarts was pretty bad.  It was obvious that the disease couldn’t be contained indefinitely, and it made more sense to hope for a cure, rather than sticking one’s head in the sand and hoping the disease wouldn’t come to Hogwarts.  Draco, however, was a different story.  It wasn’t so much that he meant to antagonize muggleborns.  But he had been listening to anti-Dumbledore sentiments all his life.  Naturally, Draco would be all too pleased to blame the headmaster for anything, if given the chance.

 

Callidus and Harry knew not to take Draco too seriously.  But both of them found that the atmosphere in Slytherin had become incredibly uncomfortable.  They were made sharply aware of this at their next ARMED meeting.  As soon as they entered the classroom, they could see that the purebloods had congregated to one side, leaving the half-bloods (or friends of half-bloods) on the other.  Euphemia Rowle, unsurprisingly was on the pureblood side.  She did not even make an effort to appear impartial, despite being the leader of the club.

 

 “Of course the disease would affect mostly muggleborns and half-bloods,” a pureblood fifth year disdainfully remarked.  “Their blood is already filthy - is it any surprise that it would only get dirtier?”

 

 “Ian!” Rowle gently scolded, batting his arm.  “You  _ know _ that it’s inappropriate to say such things in front of them.”

 

 “You’re too nice, Euphie,” a sixth year commented.  “What’s wrong with telling the truth?”

 

 “Some of them are  _ sensitive _ ,” Rowle replied.  “We can’t have their little feelings hurt, now can we?”

 

 “Do they really have feelings?” Greengrass queried.  “They’re all so boorish!  I would have thought that their contamination would have rendered them unable to feel.”

 

 “It’s one thing to feel,” a fourth year answered.  “It’s another matter entirely to perceive the subtleties of proper interaction.  After all, even animals can feel.”

 

 “Ah, of course,” Greengrass nodded, as if what the fourth year had said was a gem of wisdom.

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes at Greengrass.  He suddenly found himself wondering why he had decided to avoid conflict with her all year.  Because at the moment, he would have been happy to use any number of Dark spells on her.  Unfortunately, now was not the moment to cut down her overblown ego - not when they were surrounded by antagonistic purebloods.  But regardless of their blood status, they were all still Slytherins.

 

Soon, all the club members had arrived, and Rowle called for everyone’s attention.  “Hello everyone.  Last week, we had all of you -” Rowle tittered, “well, almost all of you - working on animal influencing spells.  While it’s true that such spells are not as useful now as they once were, they are always useful to learn.  We may not be living like druids anymore, but we are still surrounded by familiars and other such creatures.  And of course, if any of you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of getting lost in the woods, you’ll have such spells to aid you.  I don’t need to remind most of you but - well -  _ some of you _ may not be aware of this, so it bears mentioning.  It’s important to know that using these spells to try and affect the owl post is strictly illegal.  I know, I know - it’s  _ so obvious _ , but  _ some of you _ have not had the benefit of proper education about such things..”

 

Callidus and Harry frowned, resenting Rowle’s condescending methods.  She favoured the purebloods so strongly, but instead of being direct with her biases and prejudices, she preferred to be passive aggressive.  The boys would have quit the club ages ago, but the magics that they were learning in ARMED were unlike anything else taught at Hogwarts.  It was, in truth, a one-of-a-kind opportunity.

 

 “Today, we’ll be moving on to another fascinating type of ancient magic,” Rowle lectured.  “Like animal influence, this is considered a branch of Earth Magics.  These methods have largely fallen out of favour because  _ certain people _ who were not born in the magical world, often find these methods offensive.  It’s truly awful, really.  Earth Magics are powerful, powerful forms of magic, albeit difficult to control.  Even muggles knew how dangerous and awesome such magics were.  Many of them tried to mimic it but failed.  They were afraid of our powers, and it was what led to the witch burnings.”

 

 “But at least they were stupid enough to mostly burn their own kind,” one of the older students pointed out.

 

Rowle chuckled.  “Yes - very stupid.  What we’ll be discussing today is sensory enhancement magic.  I’m sure you can guess what sensory enhancement magic entails - any sort of magic that alters the senses; not only sight and sound, but taste, smell and touch as well.  These magics don’t necessarily always improve one’s senses - there are offensive variants that can be used to blind your opponents, or make them think that their skin is burning, for example.  It’s a very broad and fascinating field.”

 

The trio shared a look.  This form of magic sounded like the sort of thing that could be used in innumerable pranks.  As much as Callidus and Harry disliked Rowle, they found themselves leaning closer to listen.

 

Rowle explained more about sensory enhancement spells, but all throughout her talk, she never failed to jab at the supposed inferiority of anyone with less than pure blood.  Not only that, but she also had a tendency to veer off into tangents about people she knew, speaking as if she assumed everyone knew them as well.  Callidus suspected it was intentional.  She seemed to like to find ways to exclude the half-bloods, while acting innocent about her own behaviour.

 

 “The Selwyn’s really took advantage of this at their summer solstice fete back in ‘89.  Does anyone remember that?”

 

 “It was incredible!  They were the talk of society for months after!  And I suppose we’re still talking about it now,” a sixth year chimed in.

 

 “Anyone who was anyone was invited,” a seventh year drawled.  “I pity anyone who wasn’t at Selwyn’s fete.  It was a fantastic display of magic.  Truly remarkable.  There have been so many copycats since.”

 

Rowle nodded.  “Yes, who would have thought to use a night vision spell the way they did?”

 

 “What is she talking about?” Harry whispered to Draco.  “The Selwyn fete?”

 

Draco frowned.  “I was a bit too young to attend, so I only heard about it.  But my parents went.  They had created decor and as well as a magical display that was, at the time, unique.  My parents said it wasn’t  _ that _ impressive.  It was more flashy than anything.”

 

 “But what was the decor?  And display?” Harry wondered.

 

 “As the guests entered the entrance hall, their manor had appeared quite plainly decorated,” Draco quietly explained.  “People were less than impressed - my parents said it was all just part of the showmanship of the fete.  But in order to enter the ballroom, a night vision spell had to be cast.  The guests entered into a seemingly pitch black room, but with the spell, it was as clear as day - except different of course, since it was dark.”  Draco’s expression became wistful.  “I wish I could have seen it.  Though my parents said I wasn’t missing too much.  I’ve been to some parties after that tried to mimic the effect.  When you see it for the first time -” Draco’s eyes shone,  “well - it’s like entering a completely different world.”

 

Rowle’s voice cut into their conversation.  “So as you can imagine, sensory enhancement spells have many applications, and with a bit of imagination, you can create some rather amazing things.  Here on the table are some readings I would suggest.  For the more experienced of you, I would suggest full-body spells - there’s an interesting one that allows you to visually sense lifeforms from any side of your body, offering something like 360 degree vision.  For the less experienced, it would be safer to attempt spells related to only sight or sound alone.  Those ones are much more basic.”

 

With that, Rowle finished her talk, and the Slytherins made their way to the table to look over the various spells.

 

 “I wish she wouldn’t spend half the time talking about people we don’t even know,” Harry muttered, giving Rowle a dark glare.  “It’s like she tries to spend every single possible moment making us feel like we don’t belong.”

 

Draco gave him a puzzled look  “What are you talking about?  Selwyn’s are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.  Everyone knows the Selwyns.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “I know  _ of _ the Selwyns.  Everyone knows  _ of _ the Selwyns.”

 

 “Everyone in Slytherin, that is,” Callidus corrected.  “I highly doubt the Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors would know, unless they personally know a Selwyn.  They probably don’t even know what Sacred Twenty-Eight stands for.”

 

Draco snorted.  “Of course those ignorant fools wouldn’t know.  They know nothing about pureblood culture.  They’ve probably never even heard of the pureblood directory.”

 

 “The point is,” Harry cut in,  “I can’t stand Rowle.  If she didn’t keep the books locked away, I would just skip these stupid meetings and read the books instead.”

 

Draco shook his head.  “You’re just being paranoid.  Euphemia has never been less than polite.  And earlier, when Jenkins was saying all those things about muggleborns and half-bloods, Euphemia stopped him.”

 

 “Were you even listening to her?” Callidus questioned Draco, wondering how the blond could be so oblivious.  “She said didn’t say that his words were inappropriate.  She said it was inappropriate to say those words in front of us.  Implying that she agrees with him that she thinks half-blood and muggleborn blood is filthy.”

 

 “I don’t think she implied anything,” Draco stubbornly answered, crossing his arms.  “If she  _ really _ hated half-bloods, she never would have allowed you into the club.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes.  “I’m pretty sure she tried.  She just failed.  Ugh - this whole discussion is pointless anyway.  You just don’t get it, Draco.”

 

 “I get that you and Callidus just want to whinge about how unfair you think Euphemia is being, even though she’s been extremely generous by letting anyone into the Slytherin faction of ARMED.”

 

Harry’s expression darkened.  Callidus had a bad feeling that his friends would once again devolve into petty fighting.  But somehow, Harry managed to rein in his rage.  

 

 “Forget about it,” Harry muttered.  “Let’s just see what kind of spell we should try this week.”

 

The older students were crowded around the table, and to Callidus’s and Harry’s annoyance, they were mostly chatting with one another rather than actually looking at the books.  The trio managed to squeeze their way through, and riffled through the pages, trying to find an interesting spell to practice and learn.  As Callidus looked over the various spells (some written with such ornate calligraphy styles that they were almost illegible) it occurred to him that he had seen some similar spells in the book Madam Filodoxos had given him.  He resolved to take a closer look at the book later.

 

Eventually, the club members dispersed.  Not wanting to bicker, Harry and Draco started talking Quidditch, so Callidus tuned them out, thinking about Madam Filodoxos’ spellbook.  His mind drifted, and he found himself wishing he had access to a lab like Madam Filodoxos’ again.  With a lab like that, he was sure he could finally solve the problem of how to effectively contain his vapourized potions.

 

Suddenly, an idea hit him and he paused in his step.  Harry and Draco gave him a questioning look.

 

 “Cal?” 

 

Callidus blinked and looked towards Harry.  “I just thought of something for my potions work.  A really basic step I missed.”

 

 “Oh,” Harry answered, “Okay.”

 

When they returned to their dormitory for the night, Callidus quickly pulled out a parchment and wrote a letter to Madam Filodoxos.  As someone who worked with potions for a living, there might be a chance that she would know about alternative methods for containing potions.  Of course, he didn’t tell her that his goal was to create a prank-related item - obviously she didn’t need to know anything like that.  But if she could offer some clue, it would mean a great deal of time and effort saved.

 

Once he finished the letter, he pulled out the spell book that his foster mother had given him.  As he flipped through the pages, he spotted a spell that promised ‘vision as sharp as an owl’s’ for a temporary period of time.  He looked over the steps needed, and a grin spread across his face.  It sounded like an amazing spell, and he quickly showed Harry and Draco who agreed that they would try it the following night.

 

The next day, Callidus sent off his letter early in the morning, before breakfast.  Harry had decided to tag along, since he wanted to see his owl Hedwig, but Draco had been in a lazy mood and wanted to sleep in.  It was a good chance for them to discuss Callidus’s progress on his potions.

 

 “I’ve finished the preliminary tests of the friendliness potion on rats,” Callidus informed Harry as they climbed the stairs to the owlery.  “I have a good sense of the dosages now, but the potion still needs to be tested on humans.”

 

 “You should have told me you were doing tests on rats,” Harry whinged.  “I really wanted to see it.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “They were, admittedly very cuddly.  I’ve never seen the appeal of having rats as pets or familiars, but after they had been dosed, I admit they were - endearing.”

 

  “You should have brought them back to the common room.”

 

Callidus gave him an incredulous look.  “And have the focus of all the girls antagonism?  Because an affectionate rat isn't quite on the same level as - say - an affectionate cat.”

 

 “Then what about toads?” Harry challenged.

 

 “There's only one girl who even has a toad and she's a fourth year that everyone is afraid of, even if they won't openly admit it.”

 

Harry hummed.  “Then what about snakes?”

 

 “Snakes are a highly respectable creature,” Callidus answered.  “And if anyone in Slytherin admits to fearing them, then they’re fools.  That said, I imagine there are more people who don’t like snakes than they would openly care to admit.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but then an odd look crossed his face.  However, Callidus didn’t notice.  They had reached the top of the stairs and Callidus called for one of the school owls, and told it that he wanted his letter sent to Madam Filodoxos.  Then he looked over at Harry.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “I thought you wanted to come along to see Hedwig.”

 

Harry started.  “Oh.  Yeah.  Hedwig!”  The snowy owl swooped down from her perch and landed on Harry’s arm, and he gave her a gentle scratch on the head.

 

 “What was on your mind just then?” Callidus inquired.

 

 “Hmm?  Oh.  I just thought I remembered something from a dream.  Something about snakes, I think.  It was weird.”

 

 “At least it wasn’t another dream about trying to find that secret chamber you keep mentioning,” Callidus remarked.  “I always think you’re having a nightmare when you have those dreams.”

 

Harry’s brows creased.  “The thing is, the snake dream felt a lot like those secret chamber dreams.  I can’t fully explain it - it’s not bad.  Just -” he shook his head, “- I don’t always feel like I’m myself.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “But that’s pretty normal for dreams, isn’t it?  I rarely feel like myself in my dreams.”

 

Harry gave him a weak smile.  “I guess you’re right.”

 

Harry gave Hedwig a treat before they headed down to breakfast where they joined Draco.

 

The day passed by rather quickly.  They had had Transfigurations, which Harry continued to do very well in.  Though it was hard to be certain, Callidus almost got the impression that Harry might be Professor McGonagall’s favourite student in Slytherin.  Harry almost always earned points of Slytherin House because he was usually the first to successfully transform his objects or animals.

 

As for History of Magic, that was as boring as ever.  Draco and Harry were quietly snickering as they doodled animated pictures of the Gryffindors falling off their brooms in Quidditch, while Callidus attempted to be productive and work on a paper from one of their other classes. 

 

The trio spent the late afternoon and evening working on homework, and looking over various other spells in Madam Filodoxos’ book.  And before long, students were starting to venture off to bed.  Once it was past curfew, the trio took their Camouflage Potion, and sneaked out of the castle.  The nights were starting to get chillier, but it was easy for the boys to ignore.

 

 “You remembered to bring all the ingredients right?” Harry asked Callidus.

 

Callidus nodded.  Many ancient spells were hybrids of potions, wand magic and rituals.  For the particular spell that the trio wanted to attempt, they needed an owl feather, an herb called eyebright, and some blood.  Callidus had also brought a small bowl for mixing the materials.  They made their way to the forest, entering only far enough so that their wand light would not be seen.  

 

Callidus pulled out the bowl, and sprinkled in the eyebright, which he then crushed with a stone, followed by pouring in the blood.  Old forms of magic were fascinating, but he could see how such methods would seem disturbing to those from the muggle world.  Using the owl feather, he stirred the mix.  

 

After thirteen stirs clockwise and seven stirs widdershins, he beckoned Harry and Draco to come closer.  With the blood-tipped owl feather, he painted a streak on Harry's and then Draco’s eyelid.  He then handed Harry the feather and had his own eyelids painted.  Harry set the owl feather back in the bowl.  Draco murmured “nox” and the trio were plunged into darkness. Callidus and Harry pulled out their wands and the trio uttered the incantation to activate the spell.  Callidus watched his friends/brothers with interest and noted the way that the blood seemed to seep into their skin and disappear.  His eyes widened when the world around him suddenly became startlingly bright and clear.

 

 “Merlin!” Harry exhaled once he had gotten his bearings.  “Look at how sharp everything is!  Look!  You can see the individual legs of the ants in that tree!”

 

Callidus and Draco looked to where Harry was pointing.  Their minds were overwhelmed with awe with how remarkable everything appeared.  With owl-like vision, the world wasn't more vibrant with colour.  But it was as though they could see every little detail from the smallest fleck of soil to the tiniest veins in the tree leaves.

 

   “This is amazing!” Draco exclaimed.  “Could you imagine if we were on our brooms?  We’d be able to see so far!”

 

Harry nodded in agreement, grinning brightly.  From the corner of his eye, Callidus spotted movement, and noticed a snake slithering through the underbrush.  His eyes tracked its sinuous motions.  There was something surreal about being able to so clearly see what they ordinarily wouldn't notice.

 

 “Hey, what's that?” Harry asked.  Callidus and Draco followed the direction of his look.  From the side of a tree, they noticed what looked like transparent rippling, like the wavering air above a fire.  The trio walked towards the tree and saw a beetle climbing up the side.

 

Callidus furrowed his brows.  “I'm not entirely certain, but I think that's a magical species.  I don't know what that rippling around it is.”

 

 “Could it be - magic?” Harry speculated.

 

 “But then, shouldn't we see it around each other?” Callidus pointed out.

Harry hummed.  “Wait - let's back up.  Maybe we're standing too close to one another to notice.”

 

Callidus and Draco nodded, and they separated in different directions.  When Callidus turned around to look at his friends/brothers, he could now see that there was the same rippling around them, but it had a much wider radius than the beetle.  It was very obvious, now that they were standing further from one another.

 

 “Merlin - do you see that?” Harry called out to them.  “It's all around you!  Could it really be magic?  Is this how owls are able to find us?”

 

 “I don't know,” Callidus answered.  “The book didn't mention this. In fact, I don't think I've read any books that mention being able to see magic.” Callidus looked down at his arm.  “I can't see it around myself.”

 

Not wanting to awkwardly call to one another, they converged in the center.  Harry knit his brows.  “I've heard about auras and stuff.  Could this be like that?”

 

 “Wystan mentioned auras in his last letter - or magical signatures, I suppose.  But I assumed that they had tools to measure that sort of thing,” Callidus mused.  “It didn’t occur to me that people would try and study magical signature by actually  _ looking _ at them.”

 

 “What do you think Draco?” Harry asked.  Callidus looked over at Draco, and with his enhanced vision, Draco's expression was easily seen.  He looked indecisive, as though something was on his mind.

 

Callidus gave him a suspicious look.  “Do you know something?”

 

Draco fidgeted.  “Well -”

 

 “Well what?” Callidus demanded.

 

Draco shot him an irritated look.

 

 “Tell us Draco!” Harry pleaded.

 

Draco's irritation faded into uncertainty.  “Well - it's something that purebloods are aware of.  But I'm not really supposed to talk about it because it's - hm - my father says that the more people who know about it, the more likely it is to be abused.”

 

Callidus and Harry gave him a look that said: 'continue.’

 

Draco furrowed his brows.  “I don't know much.  Only that it's possible to see magic.  Witches and wizards have been trying to find a way to make magic more visible, but there hasn't been much success.  We have a couple of really ancient grimoires that claim that it's possible to see magic in full colour.  I don't know of anyone who can do that though.”

 

Callidus and Harry exchanged a look.

 

 “What else haven't you told us?” Callidus interrogated.

 

 “I don't know!” Draco burst out.  “I don't keep these things on the top of my head.  I hadn't even thought about seeing magic until today.” Draco gave Callidus a dark look. “You're so annoying,” he muttered.

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  

 

 “Hey, look!”. Harry's words broke the moment of tension.

 

Callidus and Draco turned to look deeper into the Forbidden Forest and they were suddenly aware of how much the air appeared to waver.  Callidus wondered how he had even missed it in the first place.  Now that he was aware of what he was looking for, it seemed obvious.

 

 “There must be a lot of magic in there,” Harry murmured.

 

Callidus agreed, but then a movement caught his eyes.  He squinted trying to make out the shapes.  His vision may have been sharp, but that didn't mean he could identify everything in the darkness of the forest.

 

But as he kept looking, he saw the movement again.  A feeling of uneasiness made his mouth go dry and his breathing became shallower.

 

 “What  _ is  _ that?” Draco asked.

 

 “Maybe we should head back to the castle,” Harry suggested, and Callidus could hear the edge of anxiety in his voice.

 

Callidus and Draco readily agreed and turned towards the castle.  None of them made a comment about the quickness of their pace.  All they knew was that their instincts were telling them that something was wrong.

 

A branch snapped behind them, and the trio looked backwards.  With their enhanced vision, they could clearly see the looming form of a hideous multi-legged creature.  It was a spider - an enormous acromantula that was taller than they were.  Its beady black eyes were as bright as polished onyx, and it was covered in spiny hairs all over its body.

 

 “Run!” Harry cried.  The word snapped Callidus and Draco out of their shock and they pumped their legs, dashing towards the edge of the forest towards Hogwarts.  Though they tried to stay close to one another, they still had to swerve around trees and shrubs that obstructed their path.

 

They were nearly out of the forest when another acromantula jumped down from a tree in front of them.  Callidus cried out, and he was distantly aware that Harry and Draco had done the same.  The trio ended up splitting in two directions, with Harry and Draco going one way while Callidus went the other.  

 

Callidus leapt over a fallen log and wove through the trees.  He peered over his shoulder and to his horror, the spiders were still following him, moving with startling agility.  They did not just scramble on the ground, but seemed to spring against the trees, easily leaping over shrubs.

 

His mind ran through the list of spells he could use.  Could he try a cutting spell?  Or call up a mist to block their vision?  He didn't even know how sharp the acromantulas’ vision was.  And unfortunately, the Slytherins had not been learning offensive spells in ARMED - at least not yet.  He pointed his wand and shouted: “ _ diffindo _ !” The spell slashed the giant spider’s leg but did not cut the whole way through.  The spider didn't even slow its pace.

 

Callidus finally managed to break through the trees onto the grassy lawn surrounding the school, but if Callidus had been hoping that the acromantula wouldn't follow, his hopes were quickly crushed.  The giant spiders seemed to think that a tasty human meal would be worth the risk of venturing into the open.

 

Callidus’s lungs and legs were burning but he didn't dare to slow his steps.  As his arm brushed against his robe, he was suddenly aware of a lump in his pocket.  It was the pouch of seed pods that Caiside had given him!

 

He frantically tried to reach his pocket, but the billowy nature of his robes made it challenging.  Callidus cursed his luck.  Finally, he managed to get a hold of a pod.  He looked behind him and flung the pod at the closest acromantula.  The pod burst open, and the acromantula momentarily faltered.  Not knowing what was happening, it decided to continue pursuing Callidus.  

 

Callidus managed to grab another seed pod and he threw it at the other giant spider.  Then, despite feeling like his lungs were going to explode, he pushed himself to run faster.  Behind him, an alien-like shriek rended the air.

 

Startled by the noise, Callidus failed to watch his step, and he tripped and fell.  He pushed himself back up, and darted another look behind him.  But the spiders had stopped chasing.  Instead, they were using their legs to try and bat off the seeds that had covered their bodies.  But it was too late - the seeds were doing their work by digging past the spiders’ hairs and worming into their skin.  It must have been painful because the spiders continued shrieking, and did not even notice that Callidus had stopped running.

 

Though Callidus was tempted to dash straight back into Hogwarts and return to the safety of his bed, he knew he had to find Harry and Draco first.  He would never forgive himself if something happened to them and he wasn’t there to help.  He took a few gulping breaths before running in the direction that Harry and Draco had dashed off in.  It wasn’t long before he saw them facing off with a single acromantula.  He could hear their shouts of: “ _ diffindo! _ ” and the pair of them had managed to cut off a couple of the spider’s legs.  But although the creature was injured, that only seemed to anger it, and it continued to aggressively try and attack Harry and Draco.

 

 “Harry!  Draco!” Callidus shouted.  “Get away from it!”  

 

The other two boys looked his way.  Though they did not know what he was planning, they were quick to obey him, and they turned around and ran.  Callidus pulled another seed pod from his pouch, and flung it at the acromantula.  Seeing the seed pod burst (especially in such clear detail) was deeply satisfying.  A dark smile crossed Callidus’s face, and moments later, the acromantula was making inhuman shrieks of pain.  

 

Harry and Draco made a wide circle around the monstrous creature and joined up with Callidus.  All of them were still catching their breath, but Callidus could feel his heartbeat gradually slowing.

 

 “What was that?” Harry asked, his eyes wide with awe.  “Did you finish the gas bomb without telling me?”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “No, it’s something that Caiside gave me.”  He pulled a seed pod out of the pouch and showed his friends/brothers.  “The shell of the seed pod bursts open upon hard contact, and the seeds will dig under any surface.  It’s pretty brutal -” Callidus gave Draco a look.  “Definitely not the sort of thing to use on a person - at least not for fun.”

 

 “What?  Really!”  Harry examined the seed pod.  “Can I?”

 

Callidus nodded and handed Harry the pod.  “Just - be careful.  Don’t drop or try and squeeze it too hard.”

 

 “This pretty much saved our lives, didn’t it?” Harry remarked.

 

Callidus blinked.  “I suppose it did.”

 

Harry smiled.  “I guess we’re even now.  I saved your life once and now you’ve saved mine.  And Draco’s.”

 

Draco’s expression became surprised.  But then he gave Callidus a nod.  “I owe you a life debt.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “We’re brothers.  You would have done the same for me.”

 

 “I -” Draco seemed to think the matter over.  “Yes.  I would have tried to do the same for you or Harry.”

 

Callidus and Harry smiled, while Draco flushed.  But the moment was quickly becoming embarrassing.

 

 “Let’s get back to the dungeons,” Callidus suggested.  Harry and Draco nodded in relief.


	17. Chapter 17

 “Did you hear that they found three dead acromantulas on the lawns?” Parkinson asked as the trio sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for their lunch the following day.

 

The trio shared a look.  

 

 “Acromantulas?” Greengrass repeated, looking dismayed.  “On the lawn?”

 

 “Yes.  The lawn.  Just outside the castle!” Parkinson answered, looking both thrilled to be sharing gossip, but also appalled by the nature of the news.  “The first years were having flying lessons and they spotted them.  The gamekeeper was trying to remove them.”

 

Callidus, Harry and Draco had agreed not to talk about their near-death escapade the previous night.  Though it was tempting to tell their peers of the remarkable events, they knew that they would get in trouble if it was discovered that they were leaving the castle past curfew.  The last thing the trio wanted was to risk the chance of detention or worse, if they happened to be discovered.

 

 “This is awful!” Greengrass cried.  “Hogwarts is supposed to be safe!  I thought nothing from the forest could hurt us as long as we remained on school grounds!”

 

 “I’m not afraid of acromantulas!” Bulstrode declared.  “I bet I could take one on!”

 

 “We don’t all have your strength, I’m afraid,” Parkinson replied.

 

 “Nor her bravado,” Zabini drawled.  “Though as Slytherins, I’m sure we’ll find a way to keep ourselves safe.”

 

 “Acromantulas are native to the rainforests of Southeast Asia,” Nott informed them.  “What are they even doing here in Britain?”

 

 “Who cares why they’re here!” Greengrass exclaimed, sounding shrill.  “What matters is what the school is going to do about it!  What if someone gets eaten?!”

 

 “Keep shrieking like that and you’ll make a nice target,” Callidus taunted.  He was sick of playing nice with Greengrass.  If he had hoped that she would have become more tolerable, he had been wrong.  And Rowle’s influence only seem to worsen her attitude.

 

Greengrass’s eyes widened, and she snapped her mouth shut, as though an acromantula could jump out at her at any moment.  Callidus smirked, satisfied that he had managed to shut her up.

 

Greengrass’s expression turned mulish.  “Dumbledore should do something.”

 

 “When has Dumbledore ever done anything to make anything safer for us?” Draco pointed out with derision.  “This place is falling apart.”

 

Harry and Callidus rolled their eyes.  They listened to the rest of the conversation with half-hearted interest, occasionally snickering when one of the Slytherins made some sort of wild speculations about what had killed the acromantulas.

 

The rest of the day passed quickly and Harry and Draco had Quidditch practice after classes were done.

 

Since Callidus was still waiting for Madam Fikodoxos’ letter, he decided that he didn't need to stop by the potions lab, and instead headed straight to the library to meet up with his Gryffindor friends.

 

He spotted Hermione, Caiside and Ginny sitting at their usual table, and sat down next to Hermione.

 

 “Did you hear about the dead acromantulas?” Ginny asked, after they said their hellos.

 

Callidus smirked.  “I did.”

 

Caiside narrowed her eyes.  “What's with that look?”

 

 “I saw it too,” Ginny piped.

 

Hermione nodded.  “Yep.  There was a look.”

 

 “You know something.  Tell us!” Ginny ordered.  Madam Pince glared in their direction, and Ginny looked momentarily sheepish.  But she returned her gaze to Callidus, giving him a stubborn look.

 

Callidus silently cursed the girls’ perceptiveness.  “What makes you think I know anything?”

 

A slow smile spread across Caiside's face and Callidus felt a moment of unease.  The girls all shared a look and it was as if they were speaking a secret language.  For a paranoid moment, he wondered if they had all managed to learn to communicate using legilimency.  However, he quickly decided that it was unlikely.

 

 “They're saying it must have happened after curfew,” Caiside explained.  “If it had happened before someone would have seen them.”

 

Hermione nodded.  “Acromantula aren't native to these parts.  They're from -”

 

 “The rainforests of Southeast Asia, I know,” Callidus cut in.  “Nott was telling us about it.”

 “Ah - well, it was a shock to learn that there are acromantulas in the forbidden forest.” Hermione looked towards the other two girls.  “Did either of you know there was acromantulas here?”

 

Ginny and Caiside shook their heads.  “If my brothers knew, they would have used that fact to try and terrorized us - especially Ron.  Ron is  _ terrified _ of spiders.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Terrified is he?”

 

Ginny snorted, her expression mischievous.  “Completely terrified.”

 

 “Acromantulas are said to be wizard-bred in order to protect treasures or buildings,” Hermione continued to explained.  “They’re social creatures as well.  I’ve been reading up on them.  They’re rather difficult to injure because of their carapace.  But these particular acromantulas did  _ not _ die of natural causes.”

 

 “How can you be sure?” Callidus asked.

 

 “It doesn’t reflect normal acromantula behaviour,” Hermione answered.  “In fact, almost all of the creatures in the Forbidden Forest tend to remain in their habitats.  The acromantulas wouldn’t have left the forest without good reason.”

 

Callidus tried to shrug casually.  “And?”

 

The girls shared another look.  “And you may or may not be aware of this, but we are able to see quite a lot from Gryffindor tower,” Hermione continued.  “Include rule-breaking Slytherins who sneak out at night.  So tell me _ Callidus _ , why were you, Harry and Draco sneaking out last night?  Was it for dueling club?  Were you dueling?”

 

 “We weren’t dueling,” Callidus denied.  

 

 “So you  _ were _ sneaking out!” Ginny crowed.

 

Callidus’s expression turned defensive.  “You said -”

 

 “We were making it up!” Caiside gloated, looking smug.

 

Callidus opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again.  He glared at the trio of Gryffindors with irritation.  “You three are utterly maddening.  I must be a masochist for being willing to spend any time with you.”

 

Ginny giggled while Caiside and Hermione just looked amused.  “Don’t feel too bad,” Caiside reassured him.  “It was the three of us against one of you.”

 

 “You didn’t have any hope to begin with,” Ginny added.  “Now tell us!  How did you kill the acromantulas?  We’ve been _ dying  _ to know!”

 

 “Well -” Callidus looked over at Caiside, “- I actually have Caiside to thank.  Those seed pods you gave me are the reason we escaped.”

 

Caiside brightened.  “Really?  You actually used them?” 

 

 “What seed pods?” Ginny questioned.

 

Caiside began to explain the seed pods to the other two girls, and to Callidus’s relief, they fell into an extended conversation about Caiside’s dangerous plants.  It left Callidus free to focus on other matters such as actually getting his homework done.  But soon, his mind began to drift to the previous night.  The near-death experience had been frightening, and it hadn’t given him time to sort out the other memorable aspects of the night; specifically, being able to see magic.  Draco had mentioned that the purebloods were aware of this fact, but that it wasn’t well known.  But considering how prolific of a reader Hermione was, would she have heard anything about it?

 

The girls had fallen silent and were busy with their own assignments.  But curiosity was eating away at Callidus and he decided to interrupt.

 

 “Hermione -”

 

Hermione looked up from her parchment, pausing the movements of her quill as she gave him an inquiring look.  “Yes?”

 

 “Have you ever read anything about seeing magic?” He asked. 

 

 “Seeing magic?” Hermione echoed.  “What do you mean?”

 

Callidus flicked a glance over to Caiside and noticed that she had raised her eyebrows.  “I mean a visual awareness of magic.  Being able to see it with your eyes.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips.  “I don't think I've ever heard about seeing magic like that.”

 

 “Are you saying there's something you don't know?” Ginny asked, wide-eyed. 

 

 “I don't have the time to look up _ everything _ !” Hermione answered defensively.  “But now that you've brought it up, I'm going to see what I can find out about it.”

 

Ginny grinned.  “So you are human after all.  I was starting to worry that you were some kind of - personified encyclopedia or something.”

 

 “Well -” Hermione's cheeks flushed. 

 

Caiside's expression became amused.  “It's a good thing.  I doubt either of our grades would be as good as they are if not for you.”

 

“Yeah!” Ginny chimed in.  “Honestly, it's awesome!  My brother Percy is always going on about school stuff and his grades, but you're far more brilliant than he is!  He almost made me afraid that I'd hate academic stuff, but since meeting you, I've changed my mind.”

 

Hermione coloured even further.  “Well thanks -”

 

Callidus fidgeted.  “This is starting to make me uncomfortable -”

 

Caiside grinned.  “Aww - the poor Slytherin can't handle all the feelings?”

 

Callidus scowled.  “I can handle feelings.  If people keep them to themselves.”

 

 “Callidus is embarrassed!” Ginny gleefully exclaimed, causing Madam Pince to give her an irritated glare.  Ginny let out a small giggle, darting quick glances towards the librarian..  “She probably hates me doesn't she.”

 

 “Yes,” Callidus agreed, causing Caiside and Hermione to give him an annoyed look. 

 

 “I don't think Madam Pince likes anybody,” Caiside observed.  “I think she only likes books. I bet she'd sleep with them except that she's probably afraid of hurting her precious books.” Caiside smirked with amusement.

 

Ginny giggled again. “I can picture her sitting around and petting the covers: ‘There, there, sweet books - no student will get their oily paws over your beautifully bound surface,’” she mimicked.

 

 “To be fair, oily fingerprints are actually damaging to books,” Hermione pointed out.  “I would have thought magical books would have been an exception, but apparently not.  At least not the most magical and rare ones.  Though our common course books all have charms protecting them from oil and dirt.”

 

Ginny's expression turned thoughtful  “That makes sense.”

 

 “I thought we were talking about Callidus's feelings,” Caiside cut in, and Callidus have her a resentful glare.  He has really hoped that the girls had forgotten the topic but apparently life was less merciful than he had hoped (or girls were more tenacious.)

 

 “Aww, look at his face!” Ginny remarked, sounding far too cheerful for Callidus's liking.  “He's  _ soo _ uncomfortable!”

 

A small smile tugged at Hermione's lips.  “Don't mind those two.  They're the same with me.  It's how they show they care.”

 

Callidus answered with a mutinous look.  “Then maybe they should care a little less.”

 

 “Aww, Callidus!  Don't you care about us?” Caiside asked, a mocking smile on her lips. 

 

Callidus hummed.  After a pause, he said: “No.  I don't believe I do.”

 

 “You don't mean that!” Ginny pouted.

 

 “Oh, but I do,” Callidus declared.

 

 “You know what I think he needs?” Caiside asked Ginny conspiratorially. 

 

Ginny shook her head, looking suspiciously innocent.  “No, what?”

 

Caiside gave Callidus an impish glance before answering Ginny.  “I think what he needs is a hug.”

 

 “No,” Callidus said flatly, while Ginny squealed: “Yes!”

 

The girls made their way to his side of the table and threw their arms around him while Hermione, who was sitting next to him tried to hide her laughter.

 

 “Hermione, you need to hug him too!” Caiside insisted, while Callidus hissed: “Unhand me!”

 

A pink tinge coloured Hermione's cheeks while Callidus just wished that he could sink into the ground. 

 

 “I'm never visiting the three of you ever again,” Callidus growled.

 

 “Don't make threats you don't mean to keep,” Caiside cheekily replied.

 

 “Hermione -” Callidus gave her an imploring look. “Get these unseemly wenches to remove their tentacles off my person.”

 

Hermione tried to hide her giggle.  “Caiside, Ginny, leave him alone.  He looks seconds away from cursing you both.”

 

Caiside gave a dramatic sigh, and the two younger girls released him, and returned to their chairs.

 

 “Are you okay?” Hermione asked him sympathetically, though her eyes were bright with laughter. 

 

Callidus considered leaving but it felt like that would be admitting that the girls had gotten the best of him.  “I believe I shall survive - though I’ll be sure to shower thoroughly after getting their dirty Gryffindor paws all over me.”

 

 “I’m a Gryffindor too!” Hermione said, sounding somewhat indignant. 

 

 “Hermione, I like you  _ in spite _ of the fact that you’re a Gryffindor.  Not because of it.  I’d probably like you more if you were in any other house,” Callidus informed her.

 

 “Even Hufflepuff?” Ginny wondered.

 

 “Oh yes,” Callidus answered.  “ _ Even Hufflepuff. _ ”

 

 “You like Hermione, do you?” Caiside asked innocently.

 

Callidus gave her a mistrustful look.  “Yes.  Hermione has many excellent qualities.”

 

Ginny giggled while Caiside gave him a sly look.  

 

 “What?” Callidus asked suspiciously.

 

Ginny tried to stifle her giggles while Caiside just maintained her fake-innocent look.  “Nothing!” she quickly replied.  “Nothing at all.”

 

Though Callidus didn’t believe her, he didn’t push it.  The last thing he needed was to have to deal with the strange, convoluted mind of girls.  Eventually, the topic changed and the girls started talking about Quidditch (or more specifically, Ginny would not shut up about how great Quidditch was.)  It was annoying, since all Callidus ever seemed to hear from Harry and Draco was Quidditch talk.  And with the game coming up, it seemed like the rest of the school had joined in with the talk as well.

 

 “I just don’t see the appeal,” Hermione told Ginny.  

 

 “I don’t see the appeal in  _ talking _ about it,” Callidus muttered.

 

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, before answering Hermione.  “Quidditch is just - amazing!  It’s so exciting.  There’s nothing like it.”

 

 “It’s just a bunch of witch and wizards on brooms throwing and catching balls,” Hermione opined.

 

 “It’s  _ way  _ more than just that!” Ginny defended.  “I mean, players have to spend the whole time watching their backs in case they get hit by bludgers.  No one tries to actually throw or catch bludgers.  It’s the quaffle and snitch that have to be caught.”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “I’m sure everyone already knows how Quidditch is played.  Telling us the details doesn’t make it more interesting.”

 

Ginny’s expression became mulish.  “Yeah, but it takes a lot of skill to be a good player.  The chasers have to be really coordinated to score goals through those hoops with the quaffle, all while trying to get past the keeper and avoid bludgers, and really skilled beaters can direct the bludgers towards other players, rather than just aimlessly hitting them away.  And the seeker!  The seeker has to be the most nimble of all to catch the golden snitch!”

 

Calidus raised his eyebrows.  “Is that your way of bragging about your skills?” 

 

Ginny looked uncertain.  “What are you talking about?”

 

 “Oh, don’t play dumb with me.  I  _ know _ you’re on the Quidditch team.  Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

 

Ginny gasped.  “You know?  You’re not supposed to know!  How did you find out?”

 

Callidus smirked, while Hermione and Caiside looked away sheepishly.  “Clearly, you underestimate my intelligence if you think I would have remained unaware.  But answer me this:  How do you think the Gryffindors will have a chance of winning if you can’t even look up when Harry is in the same space as you?  The Slytherins are going to  _ crush _ you.”

 

Ginny jutted her jaw forward, and there was a determined look in her hazel eyes.  For a fraction of a second, Callidus was reminded of his old friend Lily, but the moment quickly passed.  

 

 “I’ll be able to play,” Ginny stated.  “Don’t you worry about that.  I’ll play so well that Harry won’t be able to help but notice.”

 

 “This is all about Harry?” 

 

Ginny faltered for a moment.  “Well.  No.  It’s about  _ me _ .  I want to prove myself.”

 

Callidus hummed and then shrugged.  “If there was one way to get Harry’s attention, it would probably be Quidditch.”

 

Ginny lit up.  “Really?  You think so?”

 

 “Oh no,” Caiside interjected.  “Now you’ve done it.  She’s going to be drawing hearts on her parchment all day.”

 

Ginny blushed.  “I am not!  I only did that once!”

 

Caiside grinned.  “That we could see.  I bet you have a secret notebook that’s  _ filled _ with hearts.”

 

Somehow Ginny turned even redder.  “It’s not true,” she said weakly, but no one believed her.  Callidus was just relieved that her embarrassment had ended the Quidditch discussion.

 

When Callidus returned to the Slytherin dungeons after finishing off his star chart for Astronomy, Harry and Draco were splayed out on the sofa.  Both of them looked exhausted, and Callidus assumed that Quidditch practice had probably been grueling.  Their first game against Gryffindor would be coming soon, and Marcus Flint was determined to maintain the Slytherin’s winning streak.

 

As Callidus neared the sofa, he heard Greengrass grouse: “Must you two sit like that?  This is Slytherin House!  Your positions are so - undignified!  People will talk about us!”

 

Harry just hummed indifferently, while Draco tiredly declared: “I really - don’t - care.  If you have a problem, take it up with Flint.  I bet you won’t be complaining when we win the Quidditch Cup.”

 

 “Confident, aren’t we?” Callidus observed as he sat down on the sofa next to Harry.

 

Draco looked over at him and managed a tired, but self-satisfied smirk.  “Of course I’m confident.  The Slytherins have a secret weapon this year.”

 

Callidus arched an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

 

Draco somehow managed to look even more smug.  “I’m not telling what the secret is.  Everyone is just going to have to find out during our first match of the year.”

 

 “Oh!” Parkinson exclaimed. “Is it the fact that you all have new, top-of-the-line brooms?”

 

 “Paaansy!” Draco wailed unhappily.  “How did you knoooow?  We even disguised the brooms during practice!  We wanted to shock everyone during the first match!”

 

Parkinson grinned brightly.  “If there’s a secret, I’ll find out eventually.  There isn’t much here at Hogwarts that gets past me.”

 

 “Oh, really?” Callidus intoned.

 

Parkinson’s expression turned sly.  “Yes, really,  _ Cal _ .  Don’t tell me you doubt me.  Do you want me to tell everyone what happened at the library earlier?”

 

Callidus paled.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

 

Draco straightened up in his seat.  “Something happened in the library?”  He looked from Callidus back to Parkinson and then to Callidus again.  “What happened?”

 

 “Nothing happened in the library,” Callidus growled.

 

Draco now seemed fully alert, though Harry was still indifferently lazing on the sofa.  “Tell me what happened,” Draco demanded.

 

 “Nothing happened,” Callidus repeated, while Parkinson said, “Something  _ quite _ interesting.”

 

 “It was involving the Gryffindor girls wasn’t it.” Draco was like a wolf who had scented blood, and didn’t want to lose the trail.

 

 “Oh  _ Cal _ , are you embarrassed?” Parkinson asked, her voice saccharine.  “It was actually really sweet.  Odd, yes, but sweet.”

 

 “Tell mee!” Draco whinged.

 

 “I have no desire to discuss this topic.” Callidus’s voice was flat, and he had crossed his arms.

 

Parkinson cackled.  “You’re lucky that it’s just as fun to torment Draco as it is to torment you,  _ Cal _ .  Don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secrets.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  “For what price?”

 

Parkinson shrugged.  “No price.  Just bear in mind that I have eyes  _ everywhere. _ ”

 

Callidus thinned his lips.  “For a moment, I thought I might have to make an enemy of you.”

 

Parkinson gave him a weak smile.  “If there’s anything my life has taught me, it’s when  _ not _ to push things too far.”

 

 “This isn’t fair!” Draco interrupted.  “You  _ have _ to tell me Pansy!”

 

Parkinson turned and gave Draco an amused smile.  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

 

 “Harry!” Draco nudged him.  “You want to know, don’t you?”

 

 “Ow!” Harry winced.  “Why did you do that?  Merlin, I’m  _ so _ sore.  Flint is a slave-driver.  I swear, he’s trying to kill us all.”

 

 “Haaarry - don’t you want to know what Callidus was doing with the girls?”

 

 “I want to know why Flint is so cruel,” Harry groaned.  “Why does he take such pleasure in making all of us suffer?  What did we do to deserve this?”

 

Parkinson laughed.  “Oh Harry, darling - you signed up for it!”

 

 “I signed up to play Quidditch - not to be tortured,” Harry told her mournfully.  He turned his head to face Callidus.  “Cal - you should test that potion on Flint.  You said you needed to do human tests right?”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  It was true that he needed to do human tests on his friendliness potion, but he hadn’t thought of who to test it on yet.  “I suppose Flint would be a suitable subject.  But I don’t want to be the one to dose him.  Frankly, I’d prefer not to be flayed alive by an irate Quidditch captain.”

 

Harry straightened up and then winced from his aches.  “You would really test the potion on Flint?”

 

 “What potion?  What are you talking about now?  I thought we were talking about what happened in the library,” Draco interjected.

 

Though Callidus had been keeping the topic of his friendliness potion quiet from Draco, he didn’t see the harm in telling him now.  “I’ve been formulating a potion that removes aggressiveness and hostility, and makes people behave more amiably.”

 

Draco scrunched up his nose.  “Amiably?”  But then his expression cleared and he brightened.  “You’re going to use it on Flint?  Really?”

 

 “As long as you two are the ones to dose him, then I’m fine with Flint being the test subject,” Callidus answered.

 

 “Let’s do it then!” Draco said excitedly.

 

Harry grinned and nodded before turning back to Callidus.  “How does it work?”

 

 “It can be swallowed as potion, but we’re testing it in vapour form so it’s a rather different process.  You can leave an open vial or bowl of the potion and when Flint is within a meter from it, a use a vapourizing spell - it’s a very specific one that I’ll have to teach you if you don’t already know it.”

 

 “I think I know most of the vapourizing spells - I lent you that book, remember?” Harry reminded him.  “But we’ll probably have to teach Draco.”

 

 “I don’t know any vapourization spells,” Draco told them.

 

Callidus nodded.  “All right then.  Make sure the potion doesn’t get knocked over - anything on the floor can interfere with the ingredients and it may not work.  Otherwise, the only requirement is to make sure that Flint is within a meter of it before you vapourize it.  Oh, and throw up some sort of protective barrier spell if you don’t want to be affected.  You should be fine if you’re far enough away, but I’m not sure if you want to take that chance.”

 

 “Okay.” Harry nodded.  “I think I got that.  When do you want to do it Draco?”

 

 “Next practice,” Draco decided.  “Flint has made us triple our practice time since the big match is coming up, and I need a break!”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Are you sure it won’t affect your overall performance in the match to be slacking off during practices?”

 

Harry groaned.  “If anything, we’d probably perform better because we wouldn’t be in pain!”

 

 “So it’s decided!” Draco asserted.

 

Harry nodded in agreement, looking pleased.  “Next practice - two days from now.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

The next day, at breakfast, Callidus received a letter from Madam Fikodoxos.  It was the reply to the letter he had sent her.  Since the Slytherins were only discussing the news (which was reporting two more cases of the Orange Madness in the south) Callidus didn't pay them much heed, and opened the letter instead.

 

He skipped through the first few paragraphs in which she spoke of how proud of him she was, and how he was a credit to the Prince name and that he was surely a paragon of the Slytherin House.  Her praise was so profuse, yet he had a feeling that the letters that Madam Fikodoxos wrote to Caiside were nothing like the letters she wrote to him.  It made him feel uncomfortable; Caiside might have a bit of an attitude, but she really wasn't a bad sort.

 

Finally, he got to the section that was of interest to him, and he was pleased to see that Madam Fikodoxos has listed several materials as well as ingredients that could be used to either stabilize potions or store them.  Two of the materials were exotic enough that he hasn't even heard of them before.  He felt a renewed sense of satisfaction and folded up the letter, tucking it into his robe pocket.

 

The letter reminded him that he needed to write to Wystan as well.  Hopefully Wystan could offer some information about being able to see magic.  The topic interested Callidus enough that he decided it would probably be his next big project for potions, assuming that it was even possible to make a potion that would allow one to see magic.

 

The day was spent listening to Harry and Draco discuss how they would attempt to dose Flint with the friendliness potion.  Callidus had said he didn't want to get involved - especially since Flint was notorious for his short and violently explosive temper.  But Harry's and Draco's enthusiasm soon drew him in.  They were simply so in their element when it came to mischief that Callidus couldn't help wanting to be a part of it.

 

It kept the three of them awake during History of Magic, but none of them heard a single word that Professor Binns had said.

 

 “We're going to have to follow him,” Harry whispered, “to learn his habits.  We have to catch him alone so that we’re prepared when we dose him tomorrow.”

 

 “I don't think he _really_ has to be alone,” Draco mused. “I mean, it's just a friendliness potion.  How bad could it be?”

 

 “More people means more witnesses,” Harry pointed out.  “And do you really want to risk the chance of getting caught by Flint?”

 

Draco frowned.  “That's true.  Fine.  We'll try and get Flint alone.  Or maybe if it's just him and Montague.  Montague’s a pillock.  I swear, he was trying to purposely knock me off my broom during practice.”

 

Harry’s expression turned sympathetic.  “I don’t like Montague either.  So should we do this after class?”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “Don't you two have a Charms assignment that you still have to complete?”

 

 “Oh, it's just Flitwick,” Draco scoffed.  “He won't even take points off us if we're late.”

 

 “You say that but then you'll be the one panicking at the end of the year because you worry that your grades aren't good enough to please your father,” Callidus reminded him.

 

 “Do you want us to dose your potion or not?” Draco challenged.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “Do what you must.”

 

 “You can always help us with our homework later, can't you?” Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.  “With our Quidditch schedule, it's been hard to find the time to get it all done.”

 

Callidus sighed, as if heavily burdened.  “Yes, Harry.”

 

 “Come along with us!” Harry cajoled.  “It’s more fun when you’re with us.”

 

 “I ought to be working on the container for the potion -” Callidus answered, though felt indecisive.

 

 “You should come,” Draco insisted. “Extra pair of eyes, and all.”

 

Harry grinned.  “See?  Draco agrees.  You always help us out if we’re in a tight spot.  It’s just better if you come.”

 

 “You _are_ useful,” Draco opined.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “Fine.”  Though in truth, he did have a lot of fun with his friends/brothers, so it was no chore to join them on their escapade.

 

When classes were done, the trio quickly made their way back to the Slytherin dungeons, remembering to grab their Camouflage Potion at the last moment.  Their timing was perfect, since the seventh years had also just finished their classes and were entering the common room.  Their target Marcus Flint dropped off his book bag in his dorm room and he and his friends, Graham Montague and Lucian Bole left the dungeon soon after.  The trio exchanged glances and followed them, each taking a dose of the potion once they were in the relatively deserted hallway.

 

They had forgotten to grab the Foot-silencing Potion so they had to keep as quiet as possible.  But Flint and his friends hardly seemed aware of their surroundings.  After all, they were at the top of the school food chain.  People like Flint didn't have to worry about being bullied and attacked because he already was a bully, and an incredibly tough one at that.

 

They followed Flint out of the dungeons and exited the castle into one of the lesser known courtyards.  Callidus grimaced, and shivered from the November cold.  He could see Harry doing the same, but Draco was snug in his expensive charmed robes.  Callidus fervently hoped that perhaps Flint was using the courtyard as a shortcut to another part of the castle.  Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.  Flint and his friends settled down on a spot on the stone floor, and Montague pulled out a gobstones set from his rucksack.

 

Beside him, Callidus heard Harry groan.  “They're playing gobstones?” he whispered in dismay. “In this weather?  I always thought Flint had stone for skin and this just confirms it.”

 

 “Shh,” Draco hushed.  “We don't want them to hear us.  And if they like a game like gobstones, it’s no wonder they’d play it out here alone in the courtyard where no one can see.  People who actually _like_ gobstones are kind of pathetic.”

 

Callidus sighed, wondering why he thought this would be fun.  He could have been working on his potions project instead.  Recalling that he had Madam Filodoxos letter to aid his progress, he found himself regretting his decision already.  But since he was here, he decided that he might as well see what might happen.  What did someone like Marcus Flint do with his free time (aside from gobstones?)

 

As the trio watched Flint and his friends play, it was clear that Flint was nowhere as near talented at gobstones as he was at Quidditch.

 

 “Got you!” Montague crowed as his stone knocked Flint’s out of the circle and Flint got a face full of slime.  The trio had to bite down on their lips, and cover their mouths to muffle their laughs.  

 

 “Merlin's bloody pants!” Flint swore, slamming his fist on the ground.

 

 “You can't play gobstones like you play Quidditch,” Bole pointed out.  “You can't just knock the stones at full force and expect to score points.  You have to use skill and finesse.”

 

 “You saying I don't have finesse?” Flint growled, still trying to wipe slime from his face.

 

Bole snorted.  “No Flint, you bloody well don't, and you know it.  You're like a erumpent in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.  You destroy everything in your path.”

 

That caused Flint's lips to quirk upwards. “And I'm going to be destroying Gryffindors left and right next week.  I want them completely crushed and humiliated.  Especially that bloody Wood.”

 

Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and it was well known that he and Flint were obsessed with Quidditch.  Unfortunately for Wood, they hadn't had a good seeker in all his years as captain, and the Gryffindors had suffered loss after loss against the brutally aggressive Slytherins.

 

 “Would you stop it with all your talk about Wood?” Montague groused.  “He's never won against you.  You're bloody obsessed with the bloke.  Keep talking like that and people will think you have feelings for him or sumthin’”

 

 “I don't have feelings for Wood!” Flint roared, and Callidus flinched at the force of his anger.  But Flint's reaction was rather interesting.  Callidus suspected that there might be something there, but since he didn't have to personally deal with Flint, he didn't know what to do with the information.  He stored it away in the back of his mind.

 

 “If anything, I just want to see Wood on his knees, begging for my mercy,” Flint added.

 

 “Frankly, saying things like that only supports Graham's idea,” Bole noted.  “I mean, come on, saying you want him on his knees?”

 

 “I don't mean it like that!” Flint barked defensively.  “I _hate_ him!”

 

 “You know, we don't care if you like blokes, right?” Bole answered in a reasonable tone of voice.  “Frankly, it bothers us more that you might like a Gryffindor.  A lot more.  I mean - a Gryffindor?  Really?”

 

 “I don't like anyone!” Flint yelled. “And if you don't shut up, I'm going to _bombarda_ your ugly mug so that your mother won't even want to look at you!”

 

 “Ha!” Bole uttered. “You're one to call me ugly.  Have you looked in a mirror lately?  Or do they all scream in terror when they see you?”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  He knew that the enchanted mirrors often had interesting responses (and more often than not, Hogwarts mirrors liked to nag Callidus to use his hair degreasing potion) but he had never heard of a mirror screaming from the sight of someone's face.  He wondered if it was true.

 

 “Those mirrors are bloody stupid, and they're lucky I don't smash then all to bits,” Flint declared. “Besides, that only happened once and it was because I had the dragon pox.”

 

Flint's friends snickered. “So, are you just going to admit that you like Wood or not?  I mean, I'm not into blokes or anything, but Wood isn't awful lookin’.”

 

 “I said shut up about it!” Flint roared again.  “Let's just play gobstones.  Or are you afraid you'll lose the next round?”

 

 “Against you?” Bole smirked. “Not likely.  Hey, you still got some slime on your face.”  He gestured to Flint’s cheek.

 

Flint swore and tried to wipe it off.

 

 “Just use a cleaning charm,” Montague suggested.

 

 “No!  I hate how they feel!  Like bloody sandpaper on my skin,” Flint complained stubbornly.  When Flint finally managed to clean off all the slime, he played (and lost) another round of gobstones against his friend, leaving him with yet more slime on his face.  Callidus would have found it more comical, except he was cold enough to be fantasizing about the large fire in the Slytherin common room, rather than being stuck out here watching Flint lose at gobstones.

 

Flint and his friends played a few more rounds of gobstones, and Flint even managed to win once, though Montague claimed it was just luck.

 

 “I still won and you got slimed!” Flint bragged triumphantly.

 

 “Whatever,” Montague muttered, before using a cleaning charm on his face and wincing from the discomfort.

 

Finally, Flint's friends said they were done and ready to go inside.

 

 “I got something to do first,” Flint informed them.  “I'll meet you back at the dungeon later.”

 

 “Again?” Bole asked. “Are you secretly meeting up with Wood or something?”

 

 “No!” Flint yelled angrily.  “It's none of your bloody business!”

 

His friends laughed.  “Sure.  We'll see you later, Marcus.”

 

Flint just grunted in reply.  The trio shared a look.  If Flint was going off somewhere alone, it could provide the ideal opportunity to use the potion on Flint.  Flint's friends returned to the dungeons while Flint wandered off in a different direction.  The trio followed him, grateful for the chance to finally be going inside.

 

They entered one of Hogwarts’ side doors, and boys had to carefully ensure that they opened and closed the door silently to avoid drawing Flint's attention.  They trailed behind him along the corridor and up a flight of stairs.  After rounding a corner, they spotted a gangly looking third year waiting for Flint inside the shadowy area of an alcove.

 

 “Do you have it?” Flint questioned menacingly.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  It seemed like something shady was going on.

 

 “Yes,” the boy quailed, handing Flint a parcel.

 

 “Good.” Flint snatched the parcel from the boy's hands.

 

 “How long are you going to keep doing this for?  My mum is getting suspicious,” the boy whinged.

 

 “As long as you want me to keep your secret a secret.  Why?  Are you telling me that it’s time to tell everyone that you’re -”

 

 “Shh!” the third year insisted.  “Not here!  Someone might hear us.”

 

Flint snorted.  “No one is here but us.  Be here tomorrow with the same package.”

 

 “But what do I tell my mum?  She doesn’t understand why I keep asking her to send me biscuits.”

 

Callidus frowned.  Biscuits?

 

 “It’s your mum’s fault for making biscuits that are so bloody good.  I’ll stop asking you for biscuits when your mum no longer makes good biscuits.”

 

Callidus’s expression became incredulous.  He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing; it was just too ludicrous.  Flint was actually blackmailing someone in exchange for biscuits?  How did this situation even arise?  It was ridiculous.

 

 “Come back here tomorrow,” Flint ordered the third year.  “It has to be right after classes, before Quidditch practice.  Now scram!  Get outta my face!”

 

The gangly boy wilted and quickly scuttled off, leaving Flint alone in the alcove.  When Flint believed he was alone, he ripped open the package and began stuffing his face with biscuits.

 

 “So good,” he moaned with mouthful of biscuits still in his mouth, and Callidus cringed.  He looked over at Harry and Draco and they were wearing the same expression.  Eventually, Flint finished the entire package of biscuits.  He wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe to remove wayward crumbs before leaving the alcove.  The trio didn’t bother to follow him.  They had seen enough.

 

 “This might sound a bit weird, but I really want to try those biscuits,” Harry confessed, when they were certain that Flint was gone.

 

Draco scrunched up his nose.  “Frankly, seeing Flint eat may have put me off food forever.”

 

Callidus snorted.  “Such delicate sensibilities.”

 

 “Shut up.  It was disgusting,” Draco retorted, but there was no real heat behind the words.  “Let’s check the alcove.  We should probably put the potion where it won’t be too obvious or someone will notice it.”

 

Callidus and Harry nodded in agreement.  The alcove in question wasn’t particularly interesting.  It was arch-shaped, with a pointed top, and the stonework was fairly plain.  However, it did contain a stone bench, and a vial or bowl of potion could easily be tucked away under the bench, where it could go unnoticed.  Satisfied with the results of their investigation of Flint, the trio returned to the the Slytherin dungeons, looking forward to discovering how the friendliness potion would affect Flint.

 

On the following day, Callidus did not want to put off his potions research any longer, so after classes, he headed towards his lab after taking out a few more books from the library.  He was feeling optimistic about the finally creating the right container that would vapourize his potions, and he hoped that the information that Madam Filodoxos had given him would provide the breakthrough that he needed.  Furthermore, as he had said, he really didn’t want to risk the chance of incurring Flint’s possible wrath.  Flint might not have been the brightest _lumos_ in the school, but he was dangerous for similar reasons that Norberta was - brute strength, quick speed and aggressive instincts.

 

Some of the materials and ingredients that Madam Filodoxos had suggested were so unusual and interesting that Callidus quickly lost track of time.  Before he knew it, it was evening, and Harry and Draco were probably back from Quidditch practice.  He looked over his books and notes with a sense of longing.  He really wanted to do more reading so that he could finally solve the problem of the vapourization bomb.  But on the other hand, he really wanted to know the results of the friendliness potion.  Had it been effective on Flint?  Or was the potion still too strong?  Since the potion was created by using a love potion as a starting point (which had to be toned down to be very mild and generalized), it was hard to say how it would affect humans.

 

In the end, Callidus decided he might as well return to the common room and find out the results from Draco and Harry.  If the potion didn’t turn out quite right, at least he would know that it still needed tweaking.  Callidus knew that the potion would probably benefit from more tests on human subjects.  But because the effects were ultimately benign, he wasn’t quite as worried about it.  It wasn’t as though a potion with very temporary effects that caused people to feel more affectionate, could really do much harm.

 

Packing up his books and notes, Callidus made his way from the lab to the common room.  He thought that Harry and Draco would already be back, but to his surprise, he met up with them in the hallway.

 

 “Cal!” Harry called out brightly, waving.

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “You two look happy.  Can I take this to mean that the potion was a success?”

 

 “It - was - _awesome_!” Draco declared, looking utterly pleased.

 

Harry grinned.  “Practice was _so_ much fun today.”

 

Draco chortled.  “And everyone was so confused by Flint’s complete change of tone.”

 

 “What was Flint like?  The potion worked well?” Callidus inquired.

 

Harry and Draco nodded.  “Yeah,” Harry told him.  “We placed the potion a bit behind the stone bench, and after that other boy left, we vapourized the potion before Flint had a chance to eat his biscuits.”

 

Draco grimaced.  “I would have thought that inhaling a bunch of shimmery vapour would have caused Flint to be more suspicious, but he somehow decided that it would be a good idea to sit down and eat the entire package of biscuits.  Disgusting.”

 

 “I think the potion was affecting him even then, because I swear, he looked even happier than usual this time as he was eating his biscuits.  Merlin, I really wish I could try one.” Harry sighed wistfully.  “Those biscuits must be miraculous if they could make someone so happy.”

 

Draco made a gagging noise.  “As I said.  Disgusting.”

 

Callidus’s lips quirked upwards.  “So - Flint -?”

 

Harry nodded.  “So after that, we headed down towards the Quidditch Pitch since we had practice.  I was _really_ hoping that Flint would go easy on us because I’m _still_ sore from last practice.”

 

 “I told you to to use that cream that my mother bought me,” Draco admonished.

 

Harry frowned.  “The cream smelled like _flowers_!  I didn’t want to smell all - flowery!”

 

 “There’s nothing wrong with being covered by a pleasing odor.  My mother says a refined wizard must show his elevated tastes,” Draco retorted.

 

 “I don’t think I want to be a refined wizard,” Harry answered stubbornly.

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “Just think of it this way, Draco.  If you’re the one who smells like - er - flowers, then you’re the one who will appear the most refined in comparison.”

 

Draco’s expression brightened.  “That’s true.” He beamed.  “Good point, Callidus.  Though I must say that it still does me credit to have my companions show some degree of refinement.”

 

 “Erm -” Harry looked uncertain.  “Sure.”

 

 “You were telling me about Flint?” Callidus reminded his brothers/friends.

 

 “Yes, so Flint.  We went down and got dressed for practice,” Harry continued to explain, “and when Flint arrived, he didn’t exactly look happy.  I mean, he definitely looked a lot more happy when he’s eating those biscuits.  So Draco and I were kind of worried that the potion might not have worked.”

 

 “I couldn’t handle another brutal practice so soon,” Draco interjected.

 

Harry nodded sympathetically.  “I thought I’d be stuck with open sores if we had to have another practice session like the last one.  My hands and thighs were so raw last time.  Anyhow, so Flint came over towards us - the team, not me and Draco specifically - and usually at this point, he starts insulting us, and telling us that we’re pitiful worms that he has to whip into shape.”

 

 “Who does he think he is to presume to talk to us that way?  If he weren’t the captain of the Quidditch team, I’d never tolerate it,” Draco muttered darkly.

 

Harry ignored the comment.  “But this time, Flint didn’t insult any of us.  He just told us to get our brooms and get out on the pitch.  I think the rest of the team was a bit confused, but - I mean - Flint’s actions weren’t so unusual that everyone would really notice.  It wasn’t until we were actually up in the air that Flint became noticeably more friendly.  I mean, usually, when we’re practicing, he has this furious look on his face - like he thinks that everything we do is a disappointment.”

 

 “As if he could have a better team than us,” Draco grumbled.

 

 “But this time, he didn’t look angry at all.  He still wasn’t smiling or anything. But he didn’t insult any of us!  And what’s more, he told me that my flying was passable!”

 

Callidus arched a black eyebrow.  “He said your flying was passable?”

 

 “Yeah!” Harry affirmed.  “From someone like Flint, that’s like - unimaginable praise.”

 

 “He said my flying wasn’t bad,” Draco added.  “But what does he know?  My flying is amazing.  But it’s true that hearing something like that from Flint was unusual.”

 

Harry grinned.  “Everyone else was getting so confused.  Pucey kept asking him if he was feeling all right, or asking if he had hit his head or something.  But I think everyone was relieved to have an easy practice session.”

 

 “It’s a lot easier to show off my skills when Flint isn’t screaming at us,” Draco remarked.  “All in all, I’d say your potion was a success.  This new version of Flint is much more tolerable than his normal self.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement.  “I wish Flint were always this way.”  He turned towards Callidus.  “Any chance we could have more of that potion?”

 

 “I don’t know if I can justify making large batches of it,” Callidus replied.  “Slughorn would get suspicious if a large number of his ingredients started to disappear.”

 

Draco hummed.  “We might be able to pay for the ingredients.  You could consider it part of your potions trade.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  “If it’s a business arrangement, then I can make it happen.  For you two, I won’t charge for the labour.  If you’re willing to buy the ingredients, I’ll make you the potion.”

 

Harry’s expression turned excited.  “Really?  This is great!” He looked over at Draco.  “Could you imagine if all our practices were this fun?”

 

 “Are you sure it won’t affect your skills if you relax your practices?” Callidus wondered.

 

Draco scoffed.  “Don’t you worry about that.  Our team is going to _crush_ the rest of the other houses.  They don’t stand a chance.”

 

Harry smiled.  “It would be pretty nice to win.”

 

 “We _will_ win,” Draco fiercely asserted.  “We will _definitely_ win.”


	19. Chapter 19

It was a few days before the big Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Callidus was sitting at the breakfast table when the owl post arrived.  A letter dropped towards him, bouncing off his cup of juice and landing on his food.  He grimaced, wiping bits of tomato off the parchment, wondering how the post owl’s aim could be so deplorable.  Draco’s eagle owl  _ never _ dropped parcels or letters in his food.  Of course, Draco’s family had also paid a fortune for that eagle owl.

 

As Callidus looked down at the name on the letter, he was pleased to see that Wystan had finally replied to him.  Harry peeked over towards the letter, and Callidus showed him Wystan’s name.  It wasn’t that Harry was a snoop, but the raven-haired boy almost never received letters (except for the occasional one from Narcissa Malfoy - but even Callidus sometimes receive those, and all they said was that they were  _ such good friends _ to Draco, and that they all needed to look out for one another, which Callidus assumed meant that she wanted them to look out for Draco.)

 

Draco was preoccupied with his own parcel from his parents, which included its usual abundance of expensive treats imported from all across Europe.  Parkinson was giving him puppy-dog eyes, trying to convince Draco to give her the lavender-vanilla confection that burst into magical sweet sparkles when one bit into it.  And Harry had looked over and was saying: “Oh!  Give me all the ones you don’t want,”  to which, Draco replied, “Naturally,” causing Harry to give him a pleased grin.

 

It was a slow news day, so Callidus opened Wystan’s letter and began to read.  He grimaced at the usual lovey-dovey messages between Wystan and Calypso.  Considering that Calypso seemed to interject in almost every one of Wystan’s letters, Callidus had the impression that they were the sort of couple that did  _ everything _ together.  Personally, Callidus couldn’t imagine anything more maddening than being stuck in someone’s company all the time.  Even when it came to Harry and Draco, Callidus still got breaks from them whenever they were at practice, or when he was busy in his lab.  

 

He scanned through all the parts that he really didn’t need to see, until he finally came to the paragraphs that interested him.

 

_ The research on studying the effects of magic on one’s magical signature is going really well _ , Wystan wrote.   _ We’ve been able to show that using any sort of magic, even once, leaves a mark on one’s so-called ‘magical signature.’  It’s fascinating to compare the difference of a toddler’s signature before and after their first act of accidental magic.  Of course, since accidental magic is typically neutral or Grey magic, the effects between all children are relatively similar.  That said, it’s important to note that people do have unique ‘magical signatures.’ _

 

_ What we’re trying to figure out now is whether these changes in a person’s magical signature has any effect on who they are as a person.  As you can imagine, it’s exceedingly difficult to isolate cause and effect in our research.  Plus, since most of our studies involve children, we have to be particularly careful with how we carry out our experiments.  It wouldn’t do to have a mob of irate parents wanting to tan our hides. _

 

_ As far as measuring ‘magical signatures’ goes, we use certain measuring devices.  Yes, I have heard of being able to see magic, but using potions and spells to try and discern magic tends to result in imprecise results.  There are a lot of people hoping to make breakthroughs in that particular area, but so far, results haven’t been impressive. _

 

_ How goes your potions work?  Vapourizing potions sounds like a fascinating project, but it seems like it could have dangerous implications if it ever fell into the wrong hands.  Nonetheless, succeeding in that project would be amazing.  Have you figured out how you’ll make the container yet? _

 

_ Ah, Calypso is demanding my attention.  It’s date night and we’re going to be trying a new restaurant in Diagon Alley.  Supposedly, everything is cooked using different types of magical heat sources, and their specialty is a magically bred beast that’s a mix between wild boar and bicorns.  Salivating yet? _

 

_ Until next time, _

 

_ Wystan. _

 

Callidus folded up the letter, his expression thoughtful.  He had considered that vapourizing potions had the potential to be very dangerous, but he had put it out of his mind.  While the idea of publishing or monetizing his findings appealed to his ego, some part of him thought that putting out information about vapourizing potions could result in unintended consequences.  After all, there was already so much conflict in the magical world; did he really want to do anything that would potentially inflame that conflict?  Having Wystan confirm it only made Callidus feel more sure that he would keep his ideas to himself - at least for now.  But of course, he was still planning on going forward with using it in pranks.  There was no way he wanted to work so hard on a project, only to never use it.  And either way, he knew that Slughorn would give him credit for the work he had done.

 

The day passed by relatively quickly, and even Lockhart’s classes were less of a chore than usual.  The blond professor appeared to have been worn down by the trio’s sporadic pranks, and was much less obnoxious now than he had been at the beginning of the year.  Of course, Lockhart still had his moments of being flamboyantly self-aggrandizing, but the trio had developed an extensive enough repertoire of prank spells that it was easy to knock Lockhart down a few pegs if they felt they needed to.  And through it all, Harry seemed to have no regrets about singling out the harebrained teacher.  Lockhart managed to be annoying enough that it usually felt justifiable.

 

They were learning about ghouls that day, and as usual, Lockhart had some exaggerated story about his own personal encounters.  While the trio found Lockhart’s tales to be ridiculous (and sometimes riddled with contradictions), it was better than having to watch Lockhart perform his exploits as a skit (usually involving his more worshipful fans as volunteers.)  And after the chaotic Cornish pixie encounter (in which the pixies completely destroyed the classroom, since none of the Slytherins bothered to clean up Lockhart’s mess), Lockhart never followed up with another live encounter with magical creatures.  There was one incident in which Lockhart tried to assign the class an assignment that involved writing a poem about his exploits - but after a series of humiliating pranks, Lockhart had never suggested a poem since then.  Frankly, lessons were rather boring, since most of their education seemed to be based on following the textbook and Lockhart’s rambling anecdotes.  

 

Between classes, Callidus managed to write a reply to Wystan’s letter and when classes were over, he decided to head towards the owlery to post his letter.  Harry chose to join him, since he liked visiting Hedwig, but Draco had declared that the owlery was “soo far” and he didn't want to climb all the stairs.

 

As the two boys walked from their class towards the owlery, they began to discuss their ARMED progress. 

 

 “I hate not being able to practice spells,” Harry groused.  “I thought we'd find that secret chamber by now.  Maybe we should just risk going back to the forest to practice again.  Can't you just use those seed pods if anything happens again?”

 

 “I only have a couple of them left.  If there were more than two acromantulas, we'd be in trouble.”

 

Harry pursed his lips, a look of contemplation on his face.  “Can't you ask Caiside for more then?”

 

 “Unless Caiside is growing deadly plants up in Gryffindor tower, I doubt that she has anymore seed pods on hand,” Callidus pointed out.

 

Harry sighed heavily. “I hate Rowle.  I wish we could use those Slytherin dueling chambers.  I wonder if she was just making up that bit about having to be a pureblood?” Harry's voice turned bitter.  “Seems like the sort of thing she would do.”

 

 “I'm surprised you haven't been plotting ways to make her life difficult,” Callidus remarked. 

 

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “Like a prank?  It's harder to get into pranks without Draco, and Draco is oblivious to how Rowle acts around anyone who isn't a pureblood.”

 

 “True, Draco has the most enthusiasm for creating trouble.  But -” Callidus paused, “- he isn't necessary.”

 

Harry's expression turned hopeful.  “Are you saying that you would help me if I wanted to prank her?”

 

 “To remove that smug look from Rowle’s face?  Yes.”

 

Harry broke into a grin.  “Awesome!  What should we do?  We should plan something right away.  It's too bad that we can't enter the girls’ dorms.  I wonder if I could get Pansy or Millie to help us.”

 

Callidus gazed upwards as he thought.  “It should be both humiliating and relevant.  What would upset her the most?”

 

 “Something to do with muggles.  It's too bad we don't know her class schedule.  But we could get her during one of the meals or in the common room.  Are there any potions you could vapourize other than the friendliness potion?”

 

A wicked gleam entered Callidus's eyes. “The friendliness potion is based off love potions.  It's a matter of concentration.”

 

A dark smile crossed Harry’s face.  “I like where this is going.  But - the vapour bombs still aren't ready yet.  There must be something we could do in the meantime.” Harry tilted his head as he mused.  “My spellcasting isn't good enough to get away with hexing her out in the open.  And even if I give her a face full of boils, the girls all have expensive beauty potions to hide that kind of thing.”

 

 “Slytherin girls do.  Somehow I can't imagine the girls from the Houses being quite as vain.”

 

Harry smirked.  “That's true.  At least for Pansy, Daphne, and even Tracy.  I don't think Millie cares though.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “If anyone insulted her about her looks, she could just punch them anyways.”

 

 “Ha!  She would too!” Harry grinned.  “But that doesn't answer the question about Rowle.  I should use that hex that would make her have musical flatulence. But if we did that, we'd have to get her in the hallways and then run away.  Hmm.” Suddenly, Harry's eyes lit up.  “What about using the post?  She'd never know it was us, and it would happen in full view of the school!”

 

 “Are you suggesting sending her a howler?”

 

Harry chuckled. “That would be funny.  But we could do better.  Besides, it's most important to embarrass her in front of the Slytherins.  I don't think Rowle cares about what the rest of the school thinks.”

 

 “You have something in mind?” Callidus queried.

 

A slow smile stored spread across Harry's face.  “We should send her something muggle.”

 

Callidus arched his brow.  “Something muggle?  Clever - it's what she hates the most.  It could damage her credibility in the eyes of the other purebloods.”

 

 “Exactly!” Harry agreed. 

 

 “What should we send?  It shouldn't be something that is packaged in boxed, since no one would see it.”

 

Harry hummed.  “Not packaged -” he murmured.  But then an idea crossed his mind.  “Magazines!”

 

 “Ah - yes, there's a lot of potential there.  We just have to figure out which magazine.  Unless you know any off the top of your head?”

 

 “Not really,” Harry confessed.  “But my aunt used to get subscriptions for housekeeping magazines.  I wasn't allowed to touch them though.”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “I'm glad you were able to get away from your relatives.  They're terrible excuses for human beings.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement, but then smiled anew.  “It would be pretty funny to send Rowle a housekeeping magazine.  And have you noticed how purebloods think that pictures that don't move are bizarre and unnerving?”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Indeed.  I can check the library to see if I can discover anything about muggle magazines, though it seems unlikely.  Perhaps Hermione would know something.”

 

Before long, they had arrived at the owlery.  Callidus used one of the school owls to send his letter, while Harry called for Hedwig, and began to scratch her head.  They fell into silence, listening to the soft rustling sound of the birds above them.

 

 “I can’t stand her.  I just want her to be crushed,” Harry muttered, causing Callidus to look towards him.

 

 “Rowle?”

 

Harry nodded, with a hard look that made his green eyes look unusually cold.

 

 “She hadn't targeted me personally, like Lockhart has - but she hates a whole group of people, which is honestly worse.”

 

 “You realize that you're describing a large portion of Slytherin?”

 

Harry huffed.  “I guess.  It's just so stupid!” He thinned his lips.  “I wish I could just  _ make _ them see that the way that they're looking at things is all wrong.”

 

 “I doubt you could just force others to change their views,” Callidus mused.

 

 “Why not?” Harry asked stubbornly.  “With magic, there must be a way.”

 

Callidus frowned.  He happened to glance downwards and noticed the cord of the pendant around Harry's neck. 

 

 “You're still wearing that thing?”

 

 “Huh?” Harry gave him a bemused look.

 

 “That pendant.”

 

Harry reached under his collar and pulled out the pendant.  “Why wouldn't I?  I like it.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  There was no point in trying to cajole Harry about it.  He didn't even know for certain if there was anything wrong with it.

 

Once Hedwig had her fill of attention, the two boys left the owlery to return to the dungeons.

 

 “Shall we try to look for your secret chamber this weekend?” Callidus questioned. 

 

Harry nodded.  “After the match on Saturday, we should have plenty of time.” A look of anticipation crossed his face.  “I can't wait for the game.  It'll be my first real match!”

 

 “You sound confident.”

 

Harry's expression became mildly embarrassed.  “It's not that.  I just really like playing.  And it'll be nice to have Flint lay off us for a while.  He’s been really harsh lately, or at least after that day we used the friendliness potion.  It’s like he’s trying to make up for that moment.” He chuckled.  “I don't think he realized what happened though.”

 

 “Oh?  I wonder if that's unique to Flint, or if that's an effect of the potion.  Potions tend to have obvious effects.  People can usually sense that there is something different about themselves.”

 

Harry smiled and shrugged.  “Well not Flint.  When are you going to have a new batch of friendliness potion ready anyway?  I thought we would never have to deal with that side of Flint again.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “The shipment of ingredients was delayed.  But I’ll get started on those batches as soon as it arrives.”

 

The remainder of the week passed by in a blur, and it was soon the Saturday of the Quidditch match.  It was an overcast day, and Callidus hoped that it wouldn’t rain, but most of the other students didn’t seem bothered by the weather.  Harry and Draco had been expected to get up early to prepare, which meant Callidus hardly saw them all morning.

 

All around him, the Slytherins were talking about how the Gryffindors were going to be crushed.

 

 “They don't stand a chance!” He heard one fourth year proclaim.  “Their seeker couldn't see the snitch even if it was an inch from their nose.”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  How had the Gryffindors been so effective about keeping Ginny’s role a secret?  Of all the Houses, he wouldn't have figured the Gryffindors as being good secret keepers.  

 

As the students made their way towards the Quidditch pitch, Callidus meet up with Hermione and Caiside near one of the castle exits.

 

 “Hello Callidus,” Hermione greeted.  

 

 “Looking forward to seeing Slytherins being destroyed in the upcoming match?” Caiside playfully taunted.

 

Callidus smirked. “You lions always were known for your reckless confidence.”

 

 “You might not be worried now, but you will be,” Caiside retorted.  “It's not too late to change sides!”

 

 “Caiside!” Hermione admonished. “Callidus is going to support his  _ friends _ !  Besides, it's just a game.  There's no reason to get so riled up about it “

 

 “Think of it as part of the wizarding culture,” Caiside replied.  “It's part of our identity.”

 

 “So are pointy hats and you don't see me wearing one of those,” Hermione answered tartly.

Caiside snorted.  “My mother calls it a classic look.”

 

 “Now that you mention it, I've never seen you wearing a witches’ hat,” Callidus observed.

 

 “Yeah, well you learn to hate those things when your childhood is a series of traumatic incidents that involve being forced to wear the wretched things.  Ugh - I don't want to relive the horror of it all.  Let's just go -”

 

 “Wait just a moment -” Callidus interjected.  “I'm interested in hearing more about these childhood moments of yours.”

 

 “Noo!” Caiside pleaded.  “Come on Hermione, let's go.”

 

 “You're awfully confident about the Gryffindors’ chances.  Why don't we make a bet, to make things more interesting.  If Slytherin wins, then you have to wear a witches' hat for at least a full day.”

 

 “No!” Caiside vehemently declared.

 

 “Ah, so you  _ aren't _ so confident about the Gryffindors’ abilities.”

 

 “I  _ am _ !  Fine!” Caiside huffed with annoyance.  “But you know what?  If the Gryffindors  _ do _ win, then you'll be the one wearing the wretched hat.”

 

Callidus narrow his eyes.  Pointy hats were usually only worn by starry-eyed first years or particularly old-fashioned witches and wizards.  It would be a bit embarrassing but Slytherin house had enough stuffy purebloods that several students regularly wore hats.  Besides, Caiside had made such a big deal of the whole matter that he really wanted to see her in a witches hat.

 

 “All right,” he agreed.  “We have a bet.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.  “Honestly,” she muttered.

 

As they neared the stands, they split ways, but not before Caiside called out: “Better dust off your hat!”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows and a slow smile crossed his face.  “Better steel yourself to relive some childhood trauma.”

 

 “This is ridiculous!” Hermione opined.  “Come on Caiside.  Let's go and  _ support our friends. _ ”

 

Caiside shrugged and let Hermione pull her away   Following the crowd of students, Callidus climbed the stairs of the Slytherin portion of the stands, and found a seat next to Parkinson and Zabini.

 

 “ _ Cal _ !” Parkinson greeted when she saw him.  “Isn't this just exciting?  Harry and Drakey’s first match.”

 

Callidus’s lips lifted in amusement.  “Indeed.”

 

 “It's just a shame that Gryffindors are so brash about the whole matter.  How you manage to endure their presence, I'll never understand.”

 

 “With patience,” Callidus drawled.  “The same skill required to endure Slytherins.”

 

Parkinson cackled with mirth.  “Well said.”

 

It was noisy enough that Callidus didn't feel like trying to talk over the crowds so instead of trying to maintain any semblance of conversation with Parkinson, he decided to watch the on-goings of the crowd instead.  The Quidditch stands were filling up rapidly.  Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had come out in large numbers, and it was immediately obvious that neither of the other houses were siding with the Slytherins.  Of course, the Slytherins were determined to make themselves heard; they had a lot of pride in their team, and didn’t hesitate to show it.

 

The feeling of anticipation gave the air an electric feel.  People on each side knew that their own team had secrets, and although many Slytherins were confident that the Gryffindors would be destroyed, they could sense the optimism of the other side, and it made them uneasy.  Would this be a quick and brutal match?  Or would the results surprise everyone?  

 

There was a momentary lull as the Quidditch players emerged onto the pitch, but that soon turned into an enthusiastic roar as the students cheered for their side.  All around him, Callidus heard gasps and exclamations.

 

 “Are they holding brand new Nimbus 2001s?” an awed first year Slytherin asked of the Slytherin team.  

 

 “The whole team?” another Slytherin remarked.  “Merlin, it’s true!  All of them have one?”

 

 “It was a donation from one of the chasers - Malfoy,” a Slytherin smugly informed.

 

 “The Malfoy’s are insanely rich!  Powerful too!”

 

 “Wait - who’s that, that they’ve got as their seeker?”

 

A bewildered voice questioned: “The Gryffindors have a new seeker?  I thought they were playing what’s-his-face again -”

 

 “Who is their seeker?”

 

 “The Gryffindors don’t stand a chance!  Not against a team where everyone has the new Nimbus.”

 

 “Does anyone recognize that new Gryffindor seeker?”

 

 “It’s a Weasley!” a loud voice called out. 

 

 “Yeah!  Their seeker is a Weasley!  Can’t you tell by the hair and the hand-me-down robes?”

 

There was a burst of laughter in the Slytherin stands.

 

 “Is that how desperate they are?” a Slytherin mocked.  “Using a muggle-loving blood traitor pauper as their seeker?”

 

Though Callidus sided with the Slytherins, he felt his blood begin to boil.  Ginny didn’t deserve to be spoken of that way.  As he looked down at the pitch, he could tell that it took a lot of courage for Ginny to be able to stand tall in front of the entire student body.  Yet again, he was suddenly reminded of Lily, but the moment passed as quickly as it arrived.  It occurred to him that he almost thought of Ginny (and Caiside) as his friends.  He shook his head.  Who was kidding?  Callidus realized then that he  _ did _ think of Ginny and Caiside as his friends.  They might have spent a great deal of time mocking each other, but there was no malice behind it.  

 

Callidus might not have been the most vocal of Slytherins, but before he knew it, he called out: “Let’s just see how she plays, before making foolish assumptions.”  His words went unheard, and Callidus shook his head again.  Next to him, Parkinson raised her eyebrows before giving him a knowing smile.  Callidus chose to ignore her.

 

The two Quidditch teams gathered in the middle of the green around Madam Hooch.  She was probably giving them some sort of lecture about fairness, and it was evident, even all way from the stands, that the focus of her attention was Marcus Flint.  The captains of the Quidditch teams then shook hands and all of them mounted their brooms.

 

The shrill of Madam Hooch’s whistle sliced through the noise of the crowd, and seconds later, the players shot up into the air, with Harry and Ginny rising highest of all so that they had a good position from which to survey the pitch for the golden snitch.  Around him, the thunder of the crowd was so noisy that it almost hurt Callidus’s ears to listen to.  It was unquestionably aggravating to have people whooping and waving their arms all around him.

 

The Quidditch announcer was a friend of the Weasley twins, named Lee Jordan.  Jordan was very obviously biased towards the Gryffindors, but it was difficult to tune out his voice.  Using the  _ sonorus _ charm, his voice could be heard ringing across the stands, as the Quidditch players weaved back and forth, trying to maintain their practiced formations.  

 

  “And after brutally cutting off the lovely and attractive Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -” Jordan announced, interrupted by Professor McGonagall scolding: “Jordan!”

 

Jordan continued: “- erm - sorry - the Quaffle has been  _ seized  _ by Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint.  Flint zooms past Gryffindor chaser Katie Bell - Merlin, are those Nimbus Two-thousand-and-ones ever fast!  The new brooms certainly give the Slytherins a  _ major _ advantage.  You practically don’t even need to have talent, if you have one of those!”

 

 “Jordan…” McGonagall all but growled.

 

Jordan gave the professor a sheepish look before returning to his announcing. “Flint passes the Quaffle to Adrian Pucey and - Ooh!  Pucey  _ barely _ manages to duck from a Bludger sent his way by Fred or George Weasley - sorry can’t tell which is which - Pucey easily dodges Gryffindor’s Alicia Spinnet - sharp turn to the left - throws - Keeper Oliver Wood dives - SAVE!   _ Amazing  _ save by Wood!  The crowd cheers!!  And Gryffindors have possession of the Quaffle!  Spinnet is off!  Passes the Quaffle to Johnson - Intercepted by Pucey and the Slytherins have possession again!  Pucey passes to Slytherin’s new chaser Draco Malfoy - rumour has it that it was the Malfoys who donated the new brooms - guess life really is easier when you’re rich, yeah?”

 

McGonagall glared at Jordan, but let the comment slide.   

 

 “Malfoy flies past Spinnet - Flint is waving for Malfoy to pass - Looks like Malfoy is going to ignore him - he’s going for it - throws - and Keeper Wood moves and _ stops _ the goal.  Excellent move, Wood!  The Gryffindors have taken the Quaffle - Oh, Ouch! - Johnson’s taken a Bludger, right in the shoulder - she loses the Quaffle, and Slytherins have possession again.  Pucey has the Quaffle - zips around Bell - reverse passes to Flint - what a show off!  Flint feints - Wood dives - misses - Slytherins Score!”

 

The Slytherins around Callidus burst into boisterous cheers and hollers.  The Gryffindors clearly looked dismayed and booed loudly.  It was evident to anyone with even a passing knowledge of Quidditch that the new brooms were an immense advantage.  Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked unhappy.  Callidus searched the pitch and spotted Harry and Ginny.  Both of them wore similar looks of concentration as they scanned for the snitch.  It was early yet, and both seekers were untested.  Would Ginny be as good as Caiside and Hermione claimed?

 

Jordan’s words broke into his train of thoughts.  “Gryffindor’s chaser Bell hands the Quaffle to Spinnet - Spinnet ducks away from Pucey - passes to Johnson - Ooh!  And Malfoy swoops right in and  _ takes _ the Quaffle.  Bludger coming his way courtesy of Fred or George Weasley - Malfoy swoops down and dodges!  The field is clear - he’s flying ahead - throws - and Slytherins Score Again!”

 

The Slytherins broke into more cheers and this time, Callidus joined them, more out of pride that his friend had scored his first goal against the Gryffindors.  Draco seemed like a bit of a selfish player who didn’t want to pass the Quaffle, but apparently, he wasn’t too bad of an athlete.

 

The next score was made by the Gryffindors, but that was followed by three consecutive goals by the Slytherins.  The Slytherin team, with their new brooms, were badly thrashing the Gryffindors.  As the game progressed, the Slytherins became increasingly smug, scoring more and more goals.  At this point, it was obvious that the only way the Gryffindors would win was if their seeker caught the snitch, and none of them thought that Ginny Weasley had a chance.  Even though Harry was untried and untested, the Slytherins were convinced that the Nimbus 2001 gave him enough of an advantage to beat Ginny (unless he made an unfathomably stupid move.)  Thus, even though the chasers and beaters continued to give the game their all, attention started to turn towards the two seekers.

 

As though realizing that the game depended on the seekers, the beaters changed the direction of their focus.  Rather than attempting to protect their chasers from the Bludgers, or aiming the Bludgers at the chasers, they started aiming the Bludgers at the seekers.  Once one of the seekers were taken out, they knew the game would be done.  But the situation had become difficult for the seekers because raindrops were starting to fall from the heavy clouds above their heads.

 

 “And up goes the Bludger!” Jordan proclaimed.  “Oh, close one!  Harry Potter, the Slytherin’s new seeker, barely escapes!  Looks like the Bludger took a few bristles off the end of his broom!”

 

 “It’s nothing personal, Harry!” one of the Weasley twins called out.

 

 “It’s taking any advantage we can!” the other Weasley twin finished, shooting him one of the Weasley’s signature mischievous grins.

 

But if the Gryffindor beaters could be ruthless, the Slytherin beaters could be far worse.  The Slytherins didn’t care if Slytherin’s seeker was just a slip of a first-year girl.  What was important was completely eliminating the Gryffindor’s chances.

 

 “The Bludger flies towards Ginny Weasley - Oh, Ouch!” Jordan winced.  “Did it get her?  We’re losing visibility because of all this rain.  Oh nope!  Looks like it just caught the edge of her robes.  Good thing!  Gryffindor’s new seeker has a lot of potential!  Johnson has the Quaffle - is she going to make it?  Fantastic maneuver as she avoids Malfoy - look at that grace!  Gorgeous!  - erm - I meant her flying was gorgeous, Professor - er - She angles upwards - feints  - hits the edge of the hoop, and She Scores!!  That brings Gryffindor up to thirty against Slytherin’s lead of eighty points!”

 

The Gryffindors may have been far behind, but they loyally cheered for their team, feeling like every goal was well deserved.  In contrast, the Slytherins mocked and jeered.  But suddenly, the seeker’s movements seemed to change.  Ginny’s posture became straighter, like a hunting dog that had caught on to a scent, and seconds later, Harry too, had leaned forward on his broom, ready for a chase.  Harry and Ginny finally had their chance to show their worth.

 

Knowing that the game might be drawing to a close, the beaters on both teams became even more aggressive.  With the cold downpour, both teams wanted to win and get out of their wet robes.  Both Slytherins and Gryffindors watched with rapt fascination as the two seekers zoomed around the iron Bludgers, executing impressively agile moves as they both chased the tiny golden snitch.  In that moment, Callidus couldn’t deny that Ginny actually was a good flyer.  But then again, so too was Harry.  Callidus had a feeling that even without the new broom, Harry would be an amazing flyer - as Callidus watched, it was almost as if Harry was one with his broom.

 

Callidus wasn’t the only one impressed with Harry’s skills.

 

 “Flint found a really good one,” he heard Slytherin girl observe.  “Who would have thought that Harry Potter would be that good of a flyer?  I heard he wasn’t even raised in the magical world!”

 

 “Yeah, Potter’s got talent,” another Slytherin interjected.  “I thought Flint put him on the team because of his fame, but I guess he’s got skill after all.”

 

 “Potter and Weasley are both reaching for the snitch - and -” Jordan gasped.   “Foul!  What a dirty, Slytherin trick - Potter tries to knock Weasley off her broom!”

 

Callidus raised his eyebrows.  He didn’t think Harry would be that sort of player - but then again, Harry had developed a dark streak lately.

 

 “Oh Merlin!” Jordan exclaimed.  “She elbows him right back!  Did you see that everyone!!  Way to go Ginny!!  Gryffindors can play dirty too!  Did you see that?!”

 

By this time, Madam Hooch was furiously blowing her whistle because both the Slytherins and Gryffindors had committed fouls.  The interruption was enough to snap Harry out of his aggression, and Callidus noticed the sheepish look that crossed his face.  Even from a distance, Callidus saw Harry’s mouth form the words: “sorry” to Ginny, who nodded with embarrassment, and apologized right back.

 

The fouls meant that the seekers had both lost sight of the snitch, and everyone returned their attention from the seekers to the chasers.  With the torrent of rain, some of the less enthusiastic fans started to worry about how long the game would extend, but it wasn’t long before the seekers caught sight of the snitch again.  This time, it was Harry who spotted it first.  The two of them raced for the golden ball, managing to keep their plays legal as they flew with remarkable agility.

 

Harry and Ginny were almost neck-to-neck, though Harry was just a bit closer.  It looked like a sure thing, but then one of the Weasley twins cracked their bat against a Bludger, and the iron ball soared straight towards Harry.

 

The Slytherins, who were watching with rapt attention cried out in dismay.  True, the Slytherins were already ahead, but if the Gryffindors caught the snitch, it would mean that they had lost.  Harry appeared to have noticed the Bludger, flying straight at him.  Instinctively, he knew that trying to fly out of the way would give Ginny the edge she needed to catch the snitch.  He acted without thinking.  Instead of guiding his broom out of the way, he changed his grip until he was hanging upside-down on his broom as the Bludger whooshed past him.

 

 “Potter executes the sloth grip roll to avoid the Bludger!” Jordan proclaim.  “Is this really his first game?  And both seekers are reaching for the snitch - who will get it first?  What’s this?!  They’ve both made a grab for it -”

 

The crowds leaned forward, or zoomed in with their omnioculars, trying to understand what had happened.  Both Harry and Ginny appeared to be holding onto the snitch - but how could that be?

 

 “Un-bee-lee-vable!” Jordan cried.  “The seekers have each got the snitch by a wing!  Omniocular replays confirm that Potter and Weasley caught the snitch _ at the same time _ !  Has this ever happened in the history of Quidditch here at Hogwarts?”

 

The Slytherins seemed to realize the implication of this, because they had already erupted in wild cheers.  If the seekers had indeed tied for the catch, it meant Slytherins had won, by virtue of their higher score.  The Gryffindors were clearly conflicted.  On one hand, they were proud of their seeker.  On the other hand, they had lost.

 

The players all descended down to the green, and Madam Hooch made them all shake hands.  All the Slytherins did so with ill grace, behaving like insufferably smug winners, except Harry, who had developed a great deal of respect for his opponent’s flying.  Harry knew how much of an advantage their brooms had provided, and he saw no reason to rub in the Gryffindor’s loss.  Plus, he was still embarrassed by how aggressive he had gotten earlier, wondering what had come over him.

  
Callidus couldn’t help noticing the way Ginny’s face turned rather shockingly red as Harry shook her hand and congratulated her.  He must have had a lot of positive things to say, because she looked like she was simultaneously about to burst from happiness, as well as die on the spot.  An amused smile pulled at Callidus’s lips.  He followed the crowd of Slytherins down the stairs, and headed towards the green to personally congratulate his brothers/friends.  As he looked towards the Gryffindor side of the stand, he couldn’t help feeling absurdly amused by how Caiside’s face must look, as she realized that she would have to wear a pointy hat for an entire day.


	20. Chapter 20

When Callidus peeled his eyes open the following morning, the first thing he felt was a sense of disorientation.  The lighting seemed off, and he realized that he had slept in far later than usual.  After yesterday’s rainfall, it was a clear day, and light shone brightly through the water of the lake.  As the fog in his head cleared, he realized that he, Harry, and Draco (as well as nearly all of Slytherin), had stayed up to a ridiculously late hour, celebrating their Quidditch victory.  When he looked over towards Harry’s and Draco’s beds, he could see that their bed hangings were still drawn closed.

 

He stretched, and sat up, blinking tiredly.  Not wanting to wait until Harry and Draco woke up, he decided to get dressed and head up to the Great Hall on his own, bringing a book with him so that he’d have something to read.  As Callidus entered through the double doors of the Great Hall, he noticed that most of the Slytherin table was empty.  In his year, only Theodore Nott was sitting at the table, his nose in a book as he absently took a sip of orange juice.  But Nott was of no interest.  What  _ was _ interesting was the sight that greeted him at the Gryffindor table.

 

As he looked in the direction of the lions, he immediately noticed the pitch-black pointy hat sitting on Caiside’s auburn head, and as her gaze met with his, she narrowed her eyes, as if to say: ‘I’ll get you for this.’  Callidus couldn’t resist the slow smirk that spread across his face.  He noticed that Caiside wasn’t the only one in a black witches’ hat.  Hermione was also wearing a hat, as if trying to show solidarity.  He shook his head.  Hermione was far too nice.  But it had been very satisfying winning the bet against Caiside, not because he had anything against Caiside, but because it was fun to win.  Callidus couldn’t help but feel optimistic about the day ahead.

 

Sitting down at his usual spot, Callidus nodded at Nott before opening his book, and slowly working his way through his food.  The material was interesting enough that he lost track of time, and started when Harry and Draco sat down at his side.

 

 “How did you manage to get up so early?” Harry asked groggily, before picking up a glass of juice and taking a sip.  Callidus raised his eyebrows as he looked up at Harry’s hair.  Harry’s hair was usually a wild mass on the top of his head, but somehow, it looked worse today than usual.  Combined with the dark circles under his eyes, Harry looked almost ghoulish.  Having gotten into the habit of using his Grease-B-Gone potion more often than not, even Callidus looked better today than Harry did.  Draco, who looked just as exhausted as Harry, managed to still make an effort to look put-together.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I woke when I woke.  It was late for me.”

 

Harry hummed, as if it was too much effort to formulate a coherent reply, and began to eat his breakfast.

 

 “Callidus.”  Callidus looked up at the sound of Draco’s voice and raised an eyebrow.  “Why are the Gryffindor girls wearing pointed hats?  At least Hermione and Caiside are.  Are they trying to bring back traditional fashions?”

 

Callidus snorted, looking towards the Gryffindor table and feeling tickled with amusement once again.  “Nothing of the sort.  They just happened to bet on the wrong Quidditch team.”

 

 “They bet against us?” Draco’s tone was incredulous.

 

 “They’re nah goin’ t’ beh on th’ oppthite team,” Harry interjected, and Draco cringed, seeing his friend talking with his mouth full.

 

 “Please Harry, it’s too early for that sort of thing.  You’re making me feel sick.”

 

 “Indeed Harry - Draco’s delicate sensibilities must be protected,” Callidus drawled, his eyes still alight with amusement.

 

Harry swallowed his food.  “I said, they’re not going to bet on us.  I mean, if I was a Gryffindor, I’d bet on my own team, even if I thought they were going to lose.  People are  _ supposed _ to be loyal to their own Houses.”

 

Draco shrugs.  “Sounds like a stupid strategy.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically.  “Are you saying you’d ever bet against Slytherin?”

 

Draco scoffed.  “No.  Because Slytherins would never lose.  We’re too clever for that.”

 

 “Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Callidus observed.

 

 “So we’re going to look for the secret chamber today,” Harry changed the topic, once he finished all his food.

 

Draco and Callidus nodded in agreement.  “Just think of all the things we could do if we had our own secret room!”

 

 “We’re almost more than halfway done searching the first floor,” Harry remarked.  “Just don’t forget to try the password, ‘Open.’”

 

By the time all of the trio had finished their breakfast, the Gryffindor girls had already left the Great Hall, so Callidus didn’t have the chance to give Caiside any more smug looks.  He was looking forward to searching for the secret chamber with his friends/brothers, even if some part of him still doubted its existence.  Lately, Harry and Draco had been so busy with Quidditch practice, that it felt like he hardly had the chance to see them.  Even if the other students gave the Slytherins suspicious or confused looks, it was worth it to spend time with them.

 

The trio began to search where the had left off, keeping their eye out for any details that might hint at some sort of secret entrance.  Eventually, Draco wandered off in different direction and Callidus and Harry had a chance to speak.

 

 “So you spoke to the girls?” Harry asked.  “About the magazines and stuff?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “I asked Hermione about it since she usually aims to be the expert at everything.  She didn't offer any particularly useful ideas for specific magazines however, she was able to point me to a service that owls muggle items or subscriptions.”

 

Callidus thought back to that day in the library with the girls.  

 

 “I wanted to get a subscription to New Scientist and National Geographic but the owl subscription fees are terribly exorbitant,” Hermione had told him.  At which point Caiside and Ginny were so intrigued by the idea of muggle science that the group of them had gotten carried away by the topic.  It had, in truth, been a fascinating conversation.  While Callidus definitely preferred the wizarding world to the muggle one, he still appreciated knowledge and it was interesting to learn about the advancements that had been made in the time period that remained a blank in Callidus's memory.  Technology, in particular, had come a long way.

 

Callidus returned his attention to Harry, who was saying: “That's awesome!  A full subscription?  Heh - so instead of her receiving just one muggle magazine, she'll have to get one every month.  How much is it?”

 

 “I think she said thirty galleons a year.  Maybe more.  That doesn’t include the subscription to the magazine itself - that’s just the owl service.”

 

Harry hummed. “That's a lot.  Well, I think it would be worth it to humiliate Rowle.  She deserves it.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “That and worse.  I have actually taken some time to research muggle magazines and I did stumble across one that would work.”

 

Harry lifted his eyebrows.  “Yeah?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “It has an odd name.  'A Bear’s Life.’ And it features burly and hairy men.”

 

Harry scrunched up his face.  “Why?”

 

 “I haven't a clue.  Muggles are interested in all manner of strange things.  Perhaps it's a type of muggle style.”

 

Harry laughed.  “D’you think so?  I don't remember ever hearing about anything like that when I lived with my aunt and uncle.  But if a style like that existed, they probably wouldn't have told me.  I don't have any other ideas though so let's go with that.”  Harry grinned.  “Could you imagine everyone’s reaction if they saw some big hairy muggle on the cover of a magazine?”

 

An amused smile crossed Callidus’s face.  Being able to witness Rowle’s, and the rest of the Slytherin’s reactions would be incredible.

 

Their discussion was interrupted by Draco, who gestured in the direction he came from and told them: “There's no secret chamber back that way.  Where next?”

 

For the next hour, they checked the nearby corridors, alcoves and rooms.  Callidus didn’t have an opportunity to speak to Harry about pranking Rowle, but he was able to discuss other things.

 

 “So why did you commit that foul against Ginny?” Callidus asked Harry.  “Did Flint tell you to do that?”

 

Harry’s expression became sheepish, while Draco declared: “Of course.  Though he said to use it as a last resort, if things happen to go bad for us.  I didn’t think you’d do it though, Harry.”

 

 “I didn’t mean to!” Harry defended.  “I - I told myself I wouldn’t commit any fouls.  But I just got caught up in the moment.”

 

Draco smirked.  “I thought it was awesome.”  His expression quickly changed when he noticed Callidus’s irritated look.  “Not that I wanted to see Ginny hurt!”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “I noticed that you didn’t commit any fouls yourself, Draco.”

 

 “No,” Draco admitted.  “But we were already thrashing the Gryffindors pretty badly.”  He shrugged lightly.  “There was no need.  And we’re going to thrash the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well.  Thanks to our new brooms, the Quidditch cup is pretty much ours.”

 

Bringing up Quidditch mean that Harry and Draco soon fell into an extended conversation about their next matches, as well as a lively debate about their favourite professional players.  It was a while before Callidus and Harry had the chance to speak alone again.

 

 “We should subscribe to that magazine right away,” Harry decided.  “But I think we need to do something more.  If I have to keep staring at Rowle’s pompous face during our ARMED meetings, I'd be tempted to hex her on the spot.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “We can take opportunities as they arise.”

 

 “Yes,” Harry mused.  “We can, can't we.”

 

They once again lost the chance to speak when Draco once again joined them.  For a while, Harry and Draco discussed more Quidditch.  Their focus was on their next practices (since Flint wanted them to learn some new maneuvers.)  Then Harry mentioned a few new spells he had been reading about that would be useful for pranking.  Draco assumed it was for the purpose of pranking Lockhart or anyone else that might happen to cross their path, but Callidus had a feeling that Harry was specifically seeking out spells that he could use against Rowle.

 

The trio continued their seemingly fruitless search, but Callidus and Harry were then distracted by a group of seventh years passing by the opposite direction in the corridor.  It was Rowle and a group of her friends.

 

Callidus and Harry exchanged looks and Harry silently mouthed the word ‘opportunity,’ before tilting his head towards Draco, hinting that Callidus should do something about the blond.  Callidus gave Draco an uncertain look before he nodded.

 

 “So, er - Draco -” Callidus began, causing Draco to look towards him, while Harry quickly turned around to trail after the seventh years.

 

Draco, who had seen Harry’s movement, watched him leave before turning to Callidus and arching his eyebrows.  “Yes?  Where’s Harry going?”

 

 “Oh, he must have missed a spot.  I wanted to bring this up while Harry is gone since - hm - Harry would probably make a big deal out of it if he knew.  

 

 “Oh?”

 

Callidus scoured through his mind trying to think of something to say.  “I - hm - heard that you are - well - betrothed to Greengrass.”

 

 “What?!” Draco squawked.  “Where did you hear that?  I heard no such thing!”

 

 “Really?  You two would have made a striking pair, being so pale.  Rather like your mother and father.”

 

Draco cringed.  “That’s just - creepy.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t want to imagine being married to Daphne.  She may have good blood but - Merlin - she’s just so annoying.”

 

Harry returned soon after, but instead of looking triumphant, he looked rather pale and disturbed.  Something must have gone wrong. 

 

 “Did you find anything?” Draco asked, assuming that Harry was searching for the secret chamber.

 

 “Huh?  Oh - er - no,” Harry distractedly replied.

 

Draco huffed.  “I really want to find this secret chamber, but searching every crevice is an ordeal.  It’s too bad we can’t just order a house-elf to do it for us.”

 

Harry laughed weakly.  “I don’t mind it.  It’s kind of fun - it reminds me of a treasure hunt.”

 

Draco perked up.  “Do you suppose there could be treasure in the secret chamber?  There might be, mightn’t there?  I mean, last year, we almost found the philosopher's stone.  If not for Quiver -”  he trailed of, dreaming of possibilities.

 

Harry, who no longer looked so disturbed, smiled and agreed.

 

That evening, at their supper in the Great Hall, Callidus caught an inkling of what may have gone wrong earlier when Harry tried to prank Rowle.  The older Slytherins were astir with talk, looking either agitated or indignant.  Their usually calm and cold facades had been shaken, and many of them were glaring at the other House tables.

 

 “What’s going on?” Bulstrode (who normally seemed to be rather unobservant) asked.

 

 “Don’t you know?” Parkinson responded, though it was evident that was was thrilled to have gossip to share from the glow of keenness in her eyes.  “Someone attacked one of the seventh years - a friend of Rowle’s.  She’s a quiet and nice girl - I don’t know if you know her - her name is Dove.  Jessamine Dove - nevermind, that’s not important.  What  _ is _ important is that almost everyone likes her.  She might be quiet, but she doesn’t step on any toes and is willing to do favours and expect little in return.  Everyone is  _ furious _ that she got hexed.”

 

 “Do - do they know who did it?” Harry questioned weakly, his face pale.

 

Parkinson shook her head.  “No one is really sure.  But everyone suspects the Gryffindors.”

 

 “The Gryffindors?” Harry echoed.

 

 “Mm hm,” Parkinson nodded.  “Who else would have a motive?  As I said, Dove doesn’t have enemies.  Not that anyone knows of.  The seventh year Ravenclaws are all far too busy worrying about their N.E.W.T.s to bother anyone.  And, well - Hufflepuffs are Hufflepuffs.  Gryffindors are so volatile and emotional.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just sore losers about the Quidditch match, and I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

 

 “Stupid Gryffindors,” Bulstrode muttered.

 

Davis shook her head.  “I know Quidditch is important, but why didn’t they try and hex someone who was actually on the team?  It’s such a low blow.  Those Gryffindors sicken me.”

 

Callidus and Harry shared a look, and Callidus noticed that Harry’s expression was close to nauseous.  Even though the Slytherins weren’t entirely sure of who had attacked Dove, they were all too ready to believe that it was the Gryffindors without question.

 

It wasn’t until the late evening, when Draco was busy washing up, that Callidus and Harry were able to talk.

 

 “What happened?” Callidus demanded.  “I thought you were trying to get Rowle.”

 

 “I was!” Harry defended guiltily.  “I was aiming for her, and - you know - it’s not like I have bad aim or anything.  But -” Harry bit down on his lower lip, “- well, she just happened to drop something at that moment and bent down to pick it up.  My hex hit that Dove girl instead.  I didn’t mean to do it!”

 

Callidus winced.  It sounded like a moment of pure bad luck.  “Perhaps this whole matter will blow over soon.”

 

 “I hope so,” Harry added miserably.  “I feel terrible for hitting that other girl.  And I can’t even go apologize to her.”

 

Callidus nodded in agreement.  “No.  That would make things infinitely worse.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry sighed.  The fact was that as Slytherins, they never should have been attempting to jinx or hex another Slytherin in the first place.  Slytherins value House unity, and every Slytherin knew that to attack another Slytherin was a violation of their codes.  If one ever had a conflict with another Slytherin, it might be fair to verbally eviscerate them, or to ostracise them.  But it was never acceptable to use magic on another Slytherin unless it was within certain narrow constraints, such as duels, or with express permission, such as practicing Dark Magic.

 

What Callidus and Harry were attempting to do to Rowle was wrong by every Slytherin measure, but they both hated her enough that it had seemed worth it to risk humiliating her.  Unfortunately, Harry’s misstep created large problems for them.  If the Slytherins felt like they were under attack, they would act more cautiously and defensively than ever.

 

 “Let’s just keep our heads down in the next while,” Callidus suggested, and Harry nodded morosely.  Shortly after, Draco returned from the bathroom, and the topic shifted to other things.

 

Callidus went to bed that night with a feeling in his gut that the attack on Dove wouldn’t simply blow over, and he was soon proven right.  All it took was for a few Slytherins to claim that they had seen some Gryffindors acting suspiciously, and suddenly, everyone  _ knew _ that it had been those ‘unruly and vulgar’ Gryffindors who had hexed ‘poor and sweet’ Jessamine Dove.  It didn’t help that on top of being good-natured and amiable, Dove was also rather baby-faced.

 

Harry became besieged with a guilt, knowing that not only was he responsible for Dove being hexed, but that it was he and not the Gryffindors, that deserved blame.  But neither Callidus nor Harry could speak of it to anyone - not even Draco.  There was no way they could ever reveal that they had betrayed the Slytherin tenets.  

 

Because of Harry’s guilt, neither of them did anything to act against Rowle - not while a fresh new feud had developed between the upper year Slytherins and Gryffindors.  Unfortunately, this feud only meant that Rowle was even more unpleasant to be around.  She capitalized on her friendship with Dove in order to become more overt of her disdain for half-bloods and muggleborns, and of course, most of the older Slytherins showed their approval with strong agreement.

 

Harry’s small action had triggered a landslide that made anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn sentiments much worse within Slytherin, causing renewed hatred in the upper years against their Gryffindor peers.  It was a terrible climate for attempting any pranks.  For the time being, Callidus’s and Harry’s hands were tied.


	21. Chapter 21

November quickly became December hostilities between the Slytherins and Gryffindors only seemed to worsen.  Last year, when conflict arose between the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors, it hadn’t been a big deal.  After all, first years were expected to be immature, and the older students didn’t see a reason to let themselves be pulled into petty childish drama.  However, when sixth and seventh years were engaged in strife against the Gryffindors, it was considered ‘serious.’  The older students had enough respect and power to let their battles become the battles of the younger students.  And while Hogwarts could hardly be called a war zone, Filch and the professors were busier than ever, giving out detentions, and trying to stop jinxes and hexes from being cast in hallways.

 

Of course, the older Slytherins tended to be much more sneaky than their younger counterparts.  Many of them (excluding Flint and his ilk) were more likely to try and subtly sabotage the Gryffindors than to try and hex them in hallways.  The result of the feud was that the atmosphere in Hogwarts felt much more antagonistic than before.  The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws kept their heads down, not wanting to get involved.  Suspicious and hostile looks increased.  And of course, anytime anything went wrong, the Slytherins or Gryffindors were blamed.

 

During this period, Harry and Callidus managed to find more opportunities to try and hex Rowle.  But they quickly learned that there was no real pleasure in it when she thought it was just those ‘nasty Gryffindors.’  She never believed that she was being specifically targeted - rather, she believed she was being targeted simply because she was a Slytherin.  Instead of becoming cautious and timid like Lockhart, it seemed to make her more arrogant and rude.

 

To Callidus, it was starting to feel pointless to even try and do anything to Rowle.  It wasn’t that he felt like giving up - it was simply that he had other priorities to focus on, such as the progress of his potions projects.  However, Harry was more determined than ever to try and take Rowle down.  It required a personal solution, and since Callidus didn’t feel like devoting energy to the project, he told Harry that he would support him, but he preferred to use his efforts on other things.

 

It was early in the month of December when Callidus finally managed to create a stable and effective container for his vapourized potions.  The containers weren’t perfect - if it were up to Callidus, the containers themselves would also vapourize, leaving no evidence behind.  Instead, the potions containers were sturdy cylindrical vials, made of a strong inert material that had a special magical seal.  Hard impact, such as throwing the vials, would cause the magical seals to activate and vapourize the potions within.  It was a surprisingly simple solution, and Callidus wondered why he didn’t think of it months ago.  It was fortunate that he had received help from Madam Filodoxos.  That had provided the biggest clue to solve the container issue.

 

Knowing that he finally had the last piece of his project in place meant that the trio could finally go forward with their prank.  Everything else that they had been doing in the prior months had been minor, and mostly involved embarrassing Lockhart.  Now, they could finally implement a prank on a larger scale.  Unfortunately, the feud between the Slytherins and Gryffindors created a very negative situation, and Callidus worried about somehow making the situation worse.  If Hermione, Caiside and Ginny weren’t his friends, perhaps he wouldn’t care quite so much, but the Gryffindor girls gave him insight on the ‘other side,’ and while he would never truly be a Gryffindor sympathizer, he didn’t hate them either.

 

Because of this, Callidus found himself keeping updates on his project to himself.  It felt strange to intentionally be vague about his progress to Harry and Draco, but the idea of a large scale prank in the current antagonistic climate made him feel troubled and uneasy.  Of course, he still reported his results to Professor Slughorn, who had declared: “Brilliant!  Utterly brilliant, m’boy!  I knew you wouldn’t disappointment when I gave you access to that lab!  You’re going to go far, mark my words.  Do you plan on bringing your results to market?”

 

Callidus had modestly told Slughorn that he wanted to focus on his schooling, rather than expending too much effort bringing his ideas to the marketplace.  He didn’t mention that he was worried about vapourized potions being abused.  Slughorn may have been supportive, but he was also still a Slytherin, and Callidus preferred to keep his cards close.

 

If Callidus had thought it would be difficult to keep his secrets, he was soon proven wrong.  Harry and Draco both seemed so preoccupied that Callidus probably could have hidden a murder victim under his bed and his friends wouldn’t have noticed.  Quidditch still took up a great deal of Harry and Draco’s time and effort, but Harry’s attention also seemed to be fixated on how he could ‘bring Rowle down.’  At first, Callidus didn’t think much of it, but when he noticed Harry reading up on dark spells instead of doing homework, he began to worry.  Harry seemed to be getting obsessive about vengeance against Rowle.  That intensity might have served Harry well on the Quidditch pitch or when it came to mastering Transfigurations, but it didn’t strike Callidus as being healthy for Harry to be so determined to ruin the seventh year.

 

But when Callidus brought up his concerns to Harry, his raven-haired friend shrugged him off.

 

 “I’m still getting my homework done,” Harry defended.  “I’m not sacrificing myself just to take down Rowle.  It’s just - interesting, all right?  I just like thinking about how I’m going to do it.”

 

 “In our last two Transfiguration classes, you weren’t the first to successfully make the Transfiguration,” Callidus noted.

 

 “So?” Harry retorted.  “I don’t  _ need _ to be first.  McGonagall hasn’t said anything.”

 

Callidus snorted.  “No.  She has just been giving you looks instead.  You really think someone like McGonagall wouldn’t notice?  Listen.  I agree that knocking Rowle off her pedestal is important.  But there are other important things to worry about as well.  We’ll figure something out with Rowle.  But it bothers me to see this eating you up.”

 

Harry huffed.  “It’s not eating me up,” he grumbled.  “But -” he sighed, “I guess I should focus more on school stuff.”

 

Harry didn’t sound to convinced, but Callidus didn’t feel like pushing him.  He wasn’t like the girls where ‘mothering’ his friends came easily.  If anything, Callidus didn’t want to be stuck in a role of telling his friends what to do, even if he did secretly think that he had better judgement than they did.  But there was nothing to really do other than to let the matter go.

 

Though Callidus had finally reached success in his personal potions project, he found himself faced with new problems due to the Slytherin-Gryffindor conflict.  Prior to the older students’ feud, no one had really cared that Callidus had befriended a group of Gryffindor girls.  True, many Slytherins thought it was strange, and some speculated that Callidus might have unsavoury motives for spending time with the girls, but it hadn’t been a big deal.

 

However, after the new feud, Callidus started to receive more and more suspicious looks from both Slytherins and Gryffindors.  It was reaching a point where Callidus was starting to feel uncomfortable.  He wasn’t the sort of person who enjoyed attention simply for the sake of having attention.  Knowing that both the Slytherins and Gryffindors were questioning his actions made him self-conscious and jumpy.

 

Callidus wasn’t the only one.  As he sat down at the library table where Hermione, Caiside and Ginny usually sat, Ginny remarked: “Hi, Callidus.  Have you been getting a whole bunch of looks and comments lately?”

 

Callidus twisted his lips.  He wasn’t surprised by Ginny’s comment but he wasn’t pleased to hear it.  “It’s been - an unfortunate turn of events.”

 

 “That’s putting it lightly,” Caiside muttered.  “I’ve heard the word ‘snake’ uttered more in the past week than I’ve heard the rest of the year.”

 

 “Ron accused me of conspiring,” Ginny piped.

 

Caiside rolled her eyes.  “Knowing what I know of your brother, he probably thought you were conspiring far earlier than this feud ever began.  He’s a suspicious one, Ron is.”

 

 “I thought he was a terrible person almost all of last year,” Hermione recalled.  “But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I wonder if he’s just defensive.  My parents always like to remind me of the merits of reason and logic, and it’s the most logical answer I’ve come up with.”

 

Caiside sighed.  “Why must you always be so generous-minded?  The point is, this situation is getting uncomfortable.”

 

Callidus tensed up.  “Are you suggesting -”

 

 “We’re not suggesting that we don’t want you to meet us here anymore!” Caiside quickly added, as if sensing his thoughts.  “Just -”

 

 “It might be best for us to find a new place to meet and study.  Some place with more - privacy,” Hermione finished.

 

Ginny nodded.  “Maybe then, my brothers’ll get off my case.”

 

 “I think they’re just trying to protect you,” Hermione opined.

 

Ginny’s expression turned stubborn.  “Do I seem like the type of person that needs protecting?  I can take care of myself!”

 

 “I know - but your brothers are probably predisposed to see you as -”

 

 “A weakling?” Ginny questioned angrily.  “Because I’m not.”

 

 “So - where would you want to meet?” Callidus cut in, not wanting to listen to the girls bickering.  “Even if we meet elsewhere, won’t people notice that we’re no longer in the library?”

 

Hermione sighed.  “That’s true.  But there’ll still be less eyes, and perhaps people will focus on other things.  My parents have also told me that people often notice less than you think.  It wouldn’t be accurate to assume that everyone knows what we would be up to.”

 

Callidus frowned.  He could see that being true of Gryffindors but not of Slytherins.  Nonetheless, the thought of meeting somewhere other than the library struck him as a good idea.  Especially since Ginny still wasn’t very good at moderating her volume and continued to get dirty looks from Madam Pince.

 

 “We don’t have any place in mind yet,” Caiside told him.

 

 “But we’ve been looking!” Ginny interjected.  “With place as big as Hogwarts there  _ has _ to be someplace good we can meet.  It’s just too bad that a lot of the empty classrooms are kept locked up.”

 

Caiside sighed and nodded.  “And the empty ones that aren’t locked are used.”

 

 “Have you tried  _ Alohomora _ ?” Callidus asked, referring to the unlocking charm.

 

Hermione’s expression became uncertain.  “I don’t want to have to break rules -”

 

 “I don’t recall hearing any rules that stated that students couldn’t unlock doors,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “That’s true!” Ginny chimed.

 

 “But there are rules against using spells in the halls,” Hermione noted.

 

 “And you think the Gryffindors and Slytherins who are casting spells at each other care about that sort of thing?” Caiside questioned.  “If everyone else is already casting spells, it would be foolish of us not to.”

 

Callidus smirked at Caiside.  “How very Slytherin of you to think so.”

 

Caiside shrugged.  “Slytherins don’t have a monopoly on cleverness.  You may perceive the lot of us Gryffindors as reckless and foolish, but I believe we use it to our advantage.”

 

 “That or Gryffindors just happen to have the luck of having Dumbledore on their side,” Callidus drawled.  “Well, what do you plan in the interim?  Will we continue to meet here?”

 

The girls nodded.  “Just because we’re being accused of fraternizing with so-called ‘snakes,’ it doesn’t mean that we’d ever abandon you,” Hermione reassured him.

 

 “Besides, Gryffindors are  _ supposed _ to be brave!” Ginny declared.  “And we stick by our friends.”

 

Callidus felt both embarrassed but pleased by the support of the girls, and Caiside, who noticed his expression, gave him an amused smile.  “That we do, Ginny,” she agreed.

 

The group soon turned their attention to their school work, but the girls’ words continued to echo in Callidus’s mind.   He never imagined himself being in a position where he'd call a group of Gryffindor his friends, and his memories of his mother had done nothing to endear him to Gryffindors as a whole.  Still, now that he had befriended them, he was glad to have done so.  The three girls might not have changed his opinion of Gryffindors as a whole, but they did give him a more nuanced understanding of the lions’ mindsets.  

 

In the days that followed, the students that weren’t preoccupied with the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud began to discuss their Christmas or Yuletide plans.  There was a mixture of excitement as well as anxiety in the air.  After all, the issue with the Orange Madness was worse outside of Hogwarts.  More than one student had received letters from home suggesting that it might be safest to remain at the school over the holidays.  Callidus, however, wasn’t in this situation.  Not only were the Filodoxos suggesting that he spend Yuletide with them, but Draco wanted Harry and Callidus to visit the manor over the holidays.

 

Callidus felt conflicted.  He would have preferred to spend the holidays with Harry and Draco, but the Filodoxos had been so welcoming that he couldn’t help feeling guilty.  His Slytherin side argued that staying with the Malfoys would serve his self-interests better.  However, the time spend with his Gryffindor friends must have been rubbing off on him because he felt like he ought to be showing his adopted family his gratitude.

 

Since neither the Malfoys nor the Filodoxos demanded an immediate answer, Callidus still had time to think about the whole matter.  While some part of him looked forward to the break, he mostly felt a constant gnawing of low-level anxiety as he tried to endure the Slytherin-Gryffindor hostilities, worried about assignments and examinations, and debated where to spend to his holidays.

 

There was one major positive in his life: since he finished his vapourized potion project, it meant that he was free to start a new project.  He already knew he wanted to do something related to ‘seeing’ magic, and had already started reading everything he could find about the topic from the library.  The material was, of course, scant, but he did find some information about owl-sight, as well as other tangentially related information.  The new project, combined with Callidus’s desire to avoid the conflict around him, meant that he ended up spending longer hours in his lab as he lost track of time.

 

It was on one of these evenings that Callidus abruptly sat up from his notes, realizing that it was getting perilously close to curfew.  He shook his head.  If he continued such late hours, Harry and Draco would start asking questions, and Callidus wasn’t in a frame of mind to handle questions.  Being around Gryffindors really must have been affecting him - thinking about not telling Harry and Draco that he had finished his friendliness potion bomb was making him feel guilty.  Was there really a need for secrecy?  Was he really doubting Harry’s and Draco’s intentions so much?  Besides, he was in control of the potion and if he wanted, he could lower the dose substantially so that however the vapourized potion was used, the effects would be mild.  With a sigh, Callidus decided he should at least tell Harry.  What had he been thinking, by trying to keep the information to himself?  Harry was Harry, and it was probably just paranoia that kept Callidus quiet.

 

Thusly decided, Callidus felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders.  He put aways his books and notes, feeling much more eager to return to the common room.  If anything, he was sure that Harry would be pleased to hear that the friendliness bomb was finished, and wouldn’t have any intention of using it maliciously unlike Draco, who was loyal to his own friends, but seemed to have little to no empathy for anyone else.  

 

Callidus slung his rucksack across his shoulder and closed the lab door.  He was (perhaps foolishly) distracted as he turned a corner, and found himself face to face with a group of four fifth year Slytherins. The fifth years seemed to be loitering, and all of them looked towards Callidus when they spotted him.  Their expressions as openly dark and cruel as Marcus Flint’s.  A chill of foreboding ran down Callidus’s spine.

 

Nonetheless, they were members of his own House, so he nodded his head respectfully and attempted to pass them by.

 

 “Hey.  You.  Firstie!” one of the older boys called out.

 

Callidus glanced towards them.  There was no one else they could have been speaking to - the corridor was empty.  “I’m a second year,” he corrected.

 

 “So?  Who cares.  You hang out with firsties, don’t you?”

 

 “Yeah, this is the one,” said the lone girl in the group.  Her expression was just as mean as her friends, and alarms were starting to ring in Callidus’s mind.  But he reminded himself that it was considered dishonourable for fellow Slytherins to hex or jinx him.  What could they do?  Try to ostracize him?  It would be unfortunate, but Callidus was certain enough of his friendships to believe Harry and Draco would still stand by him.

 

 “Soo,” the first, mousey-haired boy drawled.  “You’re the little traitor in our midst.  The one who spends his time with  _ Gryffindors _ .”  This last word was spat out with deep loathing.  The alarms in Callidus’s mind were definitely screaming at this point.

 

 “I apologize but I can’t stay and chat,” Callidus told the group.  “My friends are expecting me back in the common room.”  He turned and began to walk away, but before he even managed a few steps, he felt a hand fall upon his shoulder, holding him in place.

 

 “I don’t think so,” the older boy declared.  

 

Callidus looked at the boy and narrowed his eyes, determined not to let his fear show.  “What do you want from me?”

 

 “We want -” the boy began.

 

 “No, we  _ demand _ ,” the girl corrected.  

 

The mousey-haired boy nodded.  “We demand that you stop seeing those Gryffindors.”

 

 “A snake who spends his time with lions is no true snake,” another dark-skinned boy affirmed.

 

 “We won’t tolerate a little traitor in our midst, will we?” the girl remarked, her tone of voice filled with the promise of cruelty.  “And if you keep spending time with Gryffindors, we’re going to have to do something about it.”

 

 “We’ll make you scream like a little piggy.  It’s no less than what a Gryffindor would deserve,” the last boy told him, sounding far too eager for Callidus’s liking.

 

 “You would break the Slytherin code?” Callidus questioned with all the bravado he could muster. 

 

 “We wouldn’t have to,” the eager boy answered.  “There are other ways.  So many other ways.” His face broke into a hungry grin.

 

 “And there’s no sympathy for traitors,” the mousey-haired boy pointed out.  

 

At this point, Callidus’s self-preservation instinct began to act.  He knew that his Gryffindor friends were planning a new place to meet.  The wise thing to do would be to lie to the Slytherins.  “I won’t meet them anymore.  I was just -” Callidus paused, “- using them.  For my own gain.  But I see now that it’s a foolish endeavour”

 

The girl narrowed her eyes, making her features look almost lizard-like.  “We’ll be keeping our eyes on you.  In the meantime -” she pulled out her wand, and Callidus’s eyes widened with alarm.  He tried to pull away, but the mousey-haired boy tightened his grip on Callidus’s shoulder.  The girl touched her wand to Callidus’s temple and muttered a string of syllables that Callidus didn’t recognize.  There was a faint prickly feeling from the tip of her wand, but it soon disappeared.

 

 “What did you do?” Callidus asked, feeling panicked.  “What did you curse me with?”

 

The group of fifth years smirked.  The dark-skinned boy answered.  “It wasn’t a curse.  Wasn’t a jinx or hex either, so don’t assume that we’ve broken the code.”

 

 “You’ll find out soon enough,” the mousey-haired boy told him with a mean smile before releasing him.  “Now get your ugly mug out of our faces.”

 

Callidus frowned, but he had no desire to linger, so he quickly left.  Behind him, the girl called out in a sing-song voice: “Sweet dreams, little traitor!”

  
The words made Callidus feel sick to his stomach.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is fairly dark

As Callidus rushed back to the Slytherin common room, he mentally assessed every part of his mind and body, trying to determine if he could feel anything different.  What had those fifth years done to him?  After pranking Lockhart for months, Callidus was no stranger to delayed spells.  Whatever the fifth years had done could potentially strike him at anytime.  On the other hand, it was noteworthy that the girl had mentioned dreams.  Had they done something that would affect his sleep or his dreams?  Callidus knew very little about such magics.  His anxiety must have shown on his face because when he sat down next to Harry and Draco, the first comments that came out of their mouths were: “You’re really late today,” and “Did something happen?  You look - upset.”

 

 “I -” Callidus exhaled heavily.  “A group of fifth years cornered me, and used some sort of spell on me.”

 

 “You were hexed?” Draco questioned, his grey eyes flashing angrily.  “Was it Gryffindors?”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “It was a group of Slytherins.  And I don’t think it was a hex - it was something else.”

 

 “Why did they corner you?” Harry wondered, obviously concerned.

 

 “Because of Hermione, Caiside and Ginny.  Apparently, they think I’m a traitor for befriending them.”

 

Draco frowned.  “While I don’t agree with befriending Gryffindors, there’s nothing wrong with Hermione, Caiside or Ginny.  Are those fifth years stupid or blind?”

 

Draco’s supportive comments made Callidus feel better.  It didn’t mean that other Slytherins would be so understanding, but it was still reassuring to know that his friends were backing him.  “I don’t know what they were thinking,” Callidus sighed.  “Even if they didn’t like me spending time with Gryffindors, what is a group of first or second years going to do?”

 

 “You said they used some kind of spell on you?” Harry queried.  “You seem - fine.  Do you feel anything weird?  Should we go to the infirmary?”

 

Callidus vehemently shook his head.  “No.  I don’t want to make a big deal out of this.  The last thing I need is Madam Pomfrey fussing over me.”

 

Harry gave him a sympathetic smile.  “Yeah, she does like to fuss.  You should have seen how she treated the team after the Quidditch game.  She just kept shaking her head and clucking her tongue.  So you don’t know what kind of spell they used?”

 

 “Unfortunately not,” Callidus answered.  “Though one of them made a comment about dreams.  I’m not looking forward to going to bed tonight.”

 

Draco knit his brows.  “If it’s to do with dreams, then it would probably be related to mind magics.  Mind magics are usually extremely difficult and can be finicky and dangerous though.”

 

Callidus hummed thoughtfully.  He had learned a bit about mind magic last year when he was trying to figure out whether or not Dumbledore could read minds.  He still occasionally did meditative practices to clear his mind.  Could something like that protect him?

 

Callidus sighed.  “Well, I told them I would stop spending time with the Gryffindors so I can only hope that they won’t bother me again.  The girls agreed a while back that we would meet somewhere else.  Apparently, they’ve faced harassment as well.”

 

Harry frowned.  “Really?  I s’pose I shouldn’t be so surprised.”  He huffed unhappily, tilting his head to rest on the back of the sofa.  “I just wish this stupid feud would end and we could go back to the normal rivalry.”  Harry glanced towards Callidus.  “When is your friendliness bomb going to be finished?  I’ve been thinking that something like that could help.”

 

Callidus arched his eyebrows.  “Oh?  What do you mean?”

 

 “I mean that if we could use that potion to make everyone get along - even just temporarily - then maybe people would finally see how  _ stupid _ this whole thing is,” Harry clarified.

 

Draco nodded.  “I don't care for Gryffindors, but it would be a relief for this feud to be over.  People who are always looking over their shoulders aren't too pleasant to be around.  I mean, on top of the normal Slytherin cautiousness.”

 

 “You mean paranoia?” Harry corrected.

 

 “I mean a very much warranted self-preservation instinct,” Draco retorted, before turning back to Callidus.  “The point is, I agree with Harry.  The whole idea of a potion that makes people friendly seemed ridiculous and useless at first, but if it would calm everyone down, it would be worth it.”

 

 “I’m surprised to hear this sentiment from you,” Callidus told Draco.  “I would have thought you’d be reveling in a Slytherin-Gryffindor feud.”

 

Draco shrugged.  “I certainly enjoy tormenting the odd Gryffindor or two.  But I prefer it when they don’t expect it - not when they’re waiting for it to happen at any second.  Feels too much like hexing puffskeins in a basket.  Ugly puffskeins.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry agreed, “well, not the part about them looking like ugly puffskeins.  Or the tormenting part.”  He shook his head.  “The point is, when is your potion going to be done?”

 

 “Well - about that,” Callidus gave his friends an uncertain look.  “It’s finished.”

 

 “Finished?”  Harry echoed.  “As if in - finished, finished?  Completely finished?  Really?”

 

Callidus nodded guiltily, wondering if his friends would question him further.  But Harry was so excited that all he said was: “That’s awesome!  This means we can finally use it!  We should do it soon.  How long will it take you to get the doses ready?”

 

 “It shouldn’t take too long,” Callidus told him.  “Having containers prepared takes a bit longer.  But I could always use larger containers filled with more of the potion.  The challenging part would be collecting all the containers after the potion is dispersed.”

 

Harry hummed.  “I think we could easily have it all planned out.  We have Camouflage Potion after all.  As for using the potion itself - I had a great idea to ensure that no one knows it was us.  I think we should give the potion to Peeves.”

 

Callidus arched his eyebrows.  

 

 “You really think you could convince Peeves to do anything for you?” Draco asked doubtfully, as he considered the poltergeist’s chaotic nature.

 

 “Well, he wouldn’t be doing it for me specifically,” Harry explained.  “But I know he’d do it, just for the sake of creating trouble.”

 

 “That’s a good point,” Draco conceded.  The trio spent the rest of the night discussing the rest of the details of the prank.  The guilt that Callidus felt from not telling his friends was quickly forgotten and replaced with a sense of anticipation.  But once it was time for bed, Callidus quickly remembered what had happened to him earlier in the evening, and though he closed his eyes and attempted to meditate, his mind was needled with a feelings of anxiety.

 

Eventually, he fell asleep, more from exhaustion than calmness.  As awareness returned to Callidus, he found himself in the corridors of the dungeon, filled with a sense of anticipation.  He had a fantastic idea for a potion, probably his best ever, and just had to get to his lab and create it.  He turned a corner, but then felt a strange sensation in his mind, as if it were being stretched and pulled at, like chewing gum.  The stretching feeling persisted, until it seemed to connect to something, and Callidus realized he wasn’t alone.  Usually, the presence of others was not a noteworthy event, but these people felt important.

 

He stopped in his steps and turned around to face the fifth year girl that had taunted him earlier.  For some reason, her face looked even more reptilian than he remembered, with her flat eyes, small nose, and thin lips.

 

 “Hello, little traitor,” she greeted with a toothy smile.  “My friends will be here soon.  And then we can all have a little fun.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “Excuse me.  I’m quite busy.”  He attempted to pass her, but then she pulled out her wand, aiming it straight at him.  Callidus froze.

 

With an uneasy look at the tip of her wand, Callidus reminded her: “Hexing me would be a dishonourable thing for a pure-blood to do.”

 

The girl raised her eyebrows, and moments later, the three fifth year boys appeared behind her in quick succession.  “Merlin, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out,” she sniggered.  She turned to face the mousy-hair boy.  “The little idiot doesn’t even realize he’s dreaming!”

 

The dark-skinned boy smirked.  “Ah - a surprise then.  There’s something delightful about surprises.”

 

 “Yeah - it always seems to make their pain worse!” the eager boy crowed.  

 

 “What shall we do with him,” the girl mused, using her free hand to tap her chin.  “This is just supposed to be a little scare - to make sure that he stays away from those Gryffindors.”

 

 “I think we should just go for it.  Give him a full taste of what he’d get if he really is a traitor,” the mousy-haired boy opined.  “There’s no reason to go soft on him.  He isn’t even a pure-blood.”

 

 “Yes!  I like the idea.  I want to see him howling!” the eager boy burst out, with a hungry look in his eyes that made Callidus feel sick to his stomach. 

 

Fear gripped at him, but Callidus knew that he wasn’t helpless.  “If this is just a dream -” he furrowed his brows in concentration, and the dungeon corridor vanished, so that Callidus was out in the woods instead.  But then, that stretched chewing gum sensation in his mind seemed to snap like an elastic, and Callidus was back in the dungeon corridors facing the four fifth years. No - he was wrong, it wasn’t a corridor, but a narrow room, for as he tried to back away, he came against a cold, hard wall.

 

The girl gave him a lizard-like leer.  “You think it’s that easy to get away?  My family has been practicing this form of mind-magic for generations upon generations.  It’s the sort of stuff that Euphie would  _ love _ to get her hands on for ARMED, but of course, we don’t share our secrets.”

 

 “What have you done to me?” Callidus asked, proud that he was able to keep his voice level.

 

The girl shrugged one of her shoulders.  “The same as I’ve done to my friends here.  I’ve linked my consciousness to your dreams.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  With the force of his own mind, he materialized his wand, and sent a blasting spell towards the fifth years.  But then a horrible headache ripped through his mind, making him feel as if his brain was trying to explode out of his head, and failing to do so because of his skull.  He collapsed onto his knees and gripped his head, crying out from the awful pain.  Eventually, the feeling subsided, but by then, he was breathing heavily, and entire body ached.

 

 “Tsk, tsk,” the girl admonished.  “While it was clever of you to think of doing something like that, you think I would ever enter someone’s mind unprepared?  No.  I’ve been taught better than that.  By the way, how did you like that little taste of my power?  It’s just a little teaser, of course.”

 

 “Let me do something to him!” the eager boy blurt out.  “I wanna  _ crucio _ him till he can’t see straight.”

 

The dark-skinned boy rolled his eyes.  “Ever since your parents started teaching you Dark Magic, you’ve been obsessed with that spell.  Don’t you have  _ any _ desire to be creative?  I mean, come on - relying on  _ crucio _ is just lazy.”

 

 “And the pain in dreams isn’t the same as pain in real life anyway,” the girl added.  “It only works insofar as the mind can imagine it.”  She gave Callidus a cruel smile.  “Fortunately for us, the mind can imagine some very horrifying things.  In fact, sometimes, it’s worse that reality.  Shall we see what your mind can imagine?”

 

Callidus, who was still on his knees, attempted to stand, though he had to prop himself against the wall for balance.  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” he flatly told them.  “Can you really call yourselves Slytherins, to do this to one of your own?  Or do you just get off on causing pain.”

 

 “Definitely the second one!” the eager boy quickly answered.  

 

The girl cackled.  “I’m going to have to say I agree.  But -” she paused, “it would be better for us, knowing that you actually deserved it.”

 

Callidus furrowed his brows.  “If you seek to cause pain, I’m surprised you’d turn against your own House.  I would have thought you’d target Gryffindors instead.”

 

 “That  _ would _ be ideal,” the mousey-haired boy interjected.

 

 “Well yes - I’d love to terrorize each and every single one of them,” the girl remarked.  “And maybe the occasional Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw too.  Unfortunately for us, their sections of the castle are well protected, and my magic can’t access them while they’re in their rooms.  But lucky for us, we’ve got a little traitor to play with instead.”

 

 “And if anyone isn’t a true Slytherin, it’d be someone like you,” the dark-skinned boy declared.  “After all,  _ we _ aren’t the ones fraternizing with the enemy.”

 

 “I  _ told  _ you, I was just using them,” Callidus repeated, feeling frantic in the face of the sadistic fifth years. 

 

The girl’s eyes narrowed into slits.  “You know what?  I really don’t care.”  A slow smile spread across her face.  “I’m done with talking.  It makes me feel dirty, even listening to blood traitors like you.”

 

Desperately, Callidus tried to will himself elsewhere, but while he could get the castle walls to fade, he couldn’t escape the grip that the fourth year girl had on his mind.  At this point, all the fifth years had their wands fixed on him, but Callidus knew he couldn’t handle trying to fight them on his own.  As he put all his strength into escaping, he felt a horrible pain, like hot, serrated razor blades were underneath his skin, causing his flesh to bubble and peel, and burrowing into his muscles.  He cried out in pain, losing all coherent thought as his mind gave way to agony.  It seemed like no matter what he did, nothing made it better.  He tensed his muscles, and then tried to relax them.  His breathing was shallow, but even when he tried to lengthen his breaths, it didn’t help.  And when he tried to ignore his pain, and cast his own spells at the fifth years, his efforts seemed to yield no results.  Instead, the older students would mockingly laugh, and he would experience pain anew.

 

Callidus did not know how long the fifth years tormented him for.  It felt like hours, but could have been mere minutes.  It seemed like nothing could make the pain better.  But as Callidus tried method after method, he discovered one thing that eased the horrible feelings, even if it was only by a small fraction.  Callidus found that if he could calm his mind, and reach that place of emptiness, then the pain seemed to fade.

 

Just as abruptly as the pain began, it eventually stopped.  Callidus wondered if it had been his efforts that had stopped the pain, but then he heard the eager boy whinge.

 

 “Why can’t we torture him for longer?” the boy groused.  “I was having fun.”

 

 “Yeah?  Well you try and sustain this kind of connection for that long, and see how you like it!” the girl tartly answered.  “I’m tired!”

 

 “I’d do it if you’d teach me!” the eager boy piped.

 

The girl snorted.  “You may be one of my best friends, but I wouldn’t trust you with my family secrets.”

 

 “I’m not going to let you get away with this,” Callidus promised, feeling braver now that the pain was gone.  “What you’ve done might not technically be a hex, but it’s worse.  Far worse.”

 

The girl gave him a nasty smile.  “Oh?  I don’t think you understand your situation.  Well, of course you don’t!  Why would you?  I bet you don’t even know what mind magic is. You see, this is a dream, and here, I have the power.  Which means that when you wake up in the morning, all will be forgotten.  Mostly all.  I’m sure you’ll feel an unexplained fear whenever you see us.  But fear is a good thing.  We like seeing little traitors like you trembling in your dragon hide boots.”

 

 “I won’t forget,” Callidus growled.

 

The fifth years sniggered.  “Whatever you say,” the girl shrugged.  “But don’t worry, even if you forget, we’ll remember.  And we’ll be seeing you again soon.  Real soon.”

  
And with that, Callidus’s consciousness faded into black.


	23. Chapter 23

As the morning light hit Callidus’s eyes, he felt the cobwebs of sleepiness fade from his mind.  A deeply disturbing and unsettled feeling ensured that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, but Callidus had never been the sort to want to sleep in anyway.  Perhaps he had been having nightmares, but he couldn’t seem to remember them.  He felt almost nauseated, but there was no sense in dwelling on unremembered dreams, and he forced himself out of bed.

 

He combed his hair, didn’t bother with Grease-B-Gone potion, and dressed himself in a bit of a daze, but by the time Harry and Draco were awake, Callidus was feeling more like himself.  However, when Harry was alert enough to be considered half-way coherent, the first words out of his mouth were: “Did you sleep all right?  You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.  Did you figure out what those fifth years did?”

 

Thinking of the fifth year students caused an immediate feeling of anxiety that knotted up his guts.  But he couldn't recall anything noteworthy.  Even if he had had a nightmare, shouldn't he have some sort of memory or impression of it?

 

Callidus's lips twisted downwards.  “Not really.  I woke up feeling off-balanced.” He shrugged. “But if that's the worst those fifth years can do, then that's nothing.”

 

Harry gave him an uncertain look.  “Who are they?  I'll keep my eye for them.”

 

Callidus didn't know their names however he was able to give a clear description.

 

Harry nodded. “I think I know who you're talking about.  There’s that one boy in the group that always gave me chills down my spine - he looks like the sort that likes to dissect animals for fun.”

 

 “Are you talking about Randle and his lot?” Draco cut in.  “They're purebloods, but not particularly old ones - no one that my family would invite to dinner parties.”

 

 “You know them?” Callidus asked.

 

 “Not well,” Draco answered with an indifferent gesture.  “None of them are important enough.”

 

Callidus hummed.  It wasn't particularly useful information.

 

 “So about our prank,” Harry changed the topic.  “Let’s come up with a plan for making sure we get the containers back.”

 

Callidus nodded, grateful to be discussing something else, and soon, he forgot about his feelings of unease.  The day progressed fairly normally, except for the fact that there was a sense of restlessness in the air, knowing that Christmas break would soon be upon them.  Some of the professors, like Flitwick and Sprout, were more lenient, while others, like McGonagall became more strict, drilling theoretical information into the students’ minds in hopes that they wouldn’t forget everything they had learned over the previous months.

 

After their lessons were over, Harry and Draco had Quidditch practice.  This usually meant that Callidus would head down to the library and study with his Gryffindor friends; however, the thought of doing so suddenly made his skin crawl.  Callidus frowned.  Had the threats of the fifth years really affected him that much?  Perhaps it was just a perfectly rational response of his self-preservation instinct.  To Callidus, the latter made more sense.  It would be foolish to disregard the threat that the fifth years represented, but that didn’t mean that he was actually afraid of them.  It was just common sense.

 

In fact, it seemed like it would be wisest to avoid even meeting with the three girls until they found a new, safer location.  Thus decided, Callidus jotted down a note informing them of his thoughts, and handed it off to an owl.  Knowing what he did of the girls, they would worry about his absence if he didn’t send a message, and the last thing he needed was to be chased down by Gryffindors in the current conflicted climate.

 

Satisfied with his decision, Callidus headed down towards his potion lab, eager to continue research on his new project, as well as making up large batches of the friendliness potion to use for the trio’s prank.

 

It was nearly a week later that Callidus finished up the containers for his vapourized potions.  The friendliness potion had only taken a day and a half, but the containers had involved more work.  He had been so preoccupied with lab work that he didn’t even give a second thought to the fact that he had hadn’t seen his Gryffindor friends all week, aside from the occasional glance in the Great Hall.  

 

When he told Harry and Draco, the two boys were thrilled.  They had been discussing the intricacies and outcomes of their plan all week, and it was all a matter of implementing it.  The fact that the situation between Slytherins and Gryffindors remained tense only furthered their motivation, though Callidus wondered how much of Harry's fervent interest stemmed from guilt over what had happened with Dove.

 

The fateful day of the prank arrived.  Outside, the drifting snowfall made most of the students grateful to be in a warm castle, though since some of the rooms were warmer and some were colder, most were dressed warmly with scarves on hand, and knitted jumpers under their robes.  The trio had debated whether or not to pull the prank on a weekend or weekday.  In the end, Harry and Draco decided that a school day prank would be far more amusing since it would disrupt the professors’ lessons.  It made carrying out the prank more challenging, but it was worth the effort.

 

 “Do you think Peeves can really be trusted with those vapour bombs?” Draco whispered with concern, ignoring Professor Binns who was droning on in a monotone.voice as he lectured them about some goblin war or other.   

 

 “I hope so,” Harry answered.  “I didn’t tell him what the bombs do.  I just said that if he wants to get everyone worked up, that I knew how he could do it.  He seemed excited about it - as much as a poltergeist could be.”  Harry scrunched up his face.  “Though I really don’t understand poltergeists.  One moment, Peeves will seem calm, and the next, he’s insulting me and laughing at his own stupid jokes.  Anyway, if he gets too difficult, there’s always the skurge charm.”

 

 “I almost forgot about that charm,” Draco admitted.  “We should use it sometime.  With the way that Peeves acts, he’d deserve no less than a good scare.”

 

Harry smirked in amusement.  “Anyway, if you’re worried,  I didn’t give him all of the containers.  I saved a few and we can try them out ourselves, later, where we won’t get caught.”

 

Draco’s expression became calculating, and a slow smile spread across his face.  “What if we got Filch?”

 

Callidus arched his eyebrows.  “That’s a risk.”

 

 “Don’t you mean an awesome idea?” Harry excitedly corrected, causing a few of the other students to look in their direction with questioning glances.  All the while, Professor Binns continued his dry lecture, oblivious to any disturbance.

 

 “Thank you, Harry, it  _ is _ an awesome idea,” Draco smugly affirmed.  

 

Callidus sighed.  “I’d hate to imagine what kind of detention that would result in.  But I confess that the idea of seeing a friendly Filch would be a novelty.”

 

Harry grinned.  “Let’s do it then.  We can figure out who else to prank later.”

 

Harry and Draco were restless for the rest of Binns’ lesson, but Callidus managed to pull together enough attention to take some notes.  While Callidus cared about History of Magic less than he cared about his other classes, he still wanted to do well.  Spending time with the Gryffindor girls had only spurred that desire; however, as Callidus thought of the Gryffindors, he felt a brief twist of guilt when it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen or spoken to them in a while.  He reminded himself that there would be time for that later.  

 

The trio had been hoping to hear word of their prank in the morning, especially since Harry had given Peeves the vapour bombs before breakfast.  But it wasn’t until lunch that anyone had an inkling that something unusual was happening.

 

 “Something is going on with the Ravenclaws,” the trio heard a Hufflepuff telling one of their friends.  “Maybe all that studying finally broke their brains.  Seriously, they’re being really weird!”

 

The trio looked towards the Ravenclaw table, but the students there appeared to be acting normally.  However, the table did seem emptier than usual.

 

 “Not just Ravenclaws,” another student added.  “I saw some Slytherins acting  _ really _ strange in the hallways.  I mean, completely not-Slytherin-ish.  Well, you know what I mean.”

 

Not wanting to awkwardly stand by the Hufflepuff table, the trio made their way to their own table.  If anyone had news, it would be the Slytherins.  After all, they were some of the best gossips, even if they kept the information confined within their own House.  

 

 “Would you three happen to know anything about all the crazy stuff that’s apparently going on in the castle?” Parkinson asked as the trio sat down.  “Everyone’s talking about it.”

 

Harry grinned and attempted to look as innocent as possible.  “What makes you think that  _ we _ have anything to do with it, Pansy?” 

 

 “You’re not fooling anyone,” Pansy teasingly scolded.  “So am I to assume that you three have something to do with the fact that all the suits of armour have come to life, and a whole bunch of people are acting disturbingly - hm - affectionate?”

 

 “Affectionate is putting it lightly,” Zabini drawled. 

 

 “Suits of armour?  Coming to life?  What are you talking about?” Draco demanded.

 

Pansy delicately raised her eyebrows.  “Draco, darling, don’t tell me that  _ you _ don’t know.”

 

The trio exchanged glances.  “What’s going on, Pansy?” Harry asked, insistently.  “Just tell us!”

 

A cat-like grin spread across Parkinson’s face.  “Oh, I do so love being the first to share a story.  Though -” she paused, “I had been so sure that you three would have known.” She shrugged.  “I suppose I was wrong.”

 

 “Pansy,” Draco growled.

 

 “No need to be so impatient!” Parkinson admonished.  “I’m getting to it.  I’m just really surprised that you don’t know.  As I was saying, the suits of armour have apparently come to life.  From what I’ve heard,  _ every single one _ of them.”  An amused smile caused her eyes to crinkle up.  “People are saying that they’re causing quite a ruckus with the professors.  They’re not causing any harm.  Just doing things like dancing around, bowing at people, and walking into classrooms, interrupting lessons.  Or - apparently, hugging people?  I have the impression that the pranksters intended something light-hearted - you know, considering how things have been.”

 

The trio shared yet another look.  What were the odds that someone else had decided to pull a prank on the exact same day as they had?  They looked over at the Gryffindor table, and it appeared that many of the Gryffindors were giving the Weasley twins questioning looks.  However, the Weasley twins managed to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  In fact, there was almost something unnatural about their ‘natural’ act.

 

 “As for the other thing,” Parkinson continued.  “It seems to have disproportionately affected the older Ravenclaws, though I know some Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Slytherins have been affected as well.”   
  


 “What happened?” Harry wondered.

 

 “From what I heard, it’s affected everyone in this morning’s upper level Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes classes,” Parkinson informed them.  “And a few mid-level classes as well.  Haven’t you three noticed how empty the Head Table is today?  Oh, and the library.”

 

 “The library?”  Harry echoed.

 

 “Indeed,” Zabini replied.  “Ah, if only Madam Pince was lucid enough to understand what is happening to her beloved books.”

 

Not wanting to act suspicious by immediately dashing off, the trio quickly ate their lunches, while Parkinson continued to prattle and speculate.  When they were done scarfing down their food (with the exception of Draco who ate as neatly as ever), they left the Great Hall.  They were eager to see the results of their prank, but they also had to collect the vapour bomb containers.  Furthermore, they wanted to see the moving suits of armour in action.

 

As they turned the corner that would take them towards the library, they were immediately accosted by a suit of armour, who gave them a low and stately bow, before skipping away like a young schoolgirl, arms swinging gaily.  The trio’s eyes widened and then they snorted with amused laughter. 

 

 “Merlin!” Harry shook his head, still chuckling quietly.  “I can’t believe it.  It  _ must _ have been the Weasleys.  Who else could it have been?”

 

Callidus tried to bite back his smile.  “They couldn’t have known that we were planning our prank for the same day, could they?  It seems like too much of a coincidence.  An amusing one though.”

 

Harry shrugged, his eyes bright.  “Who cares?  I think this makes it more fun.”  He grinned widely.  “Come on.  Let’s see what else is happening.”

 

As they continued forward, they came across an older Ravenclaw, recognizable due to the blue and bronze scarf wrapped around her neck.  The Ravenclaw girl was standing in an alcove, hugging a marble statue of a rather ugly manticore (a beast with a human-like head, a lion’s body and scorpion’s tale.)  Every so often, she would rub her cheek against the manticore’s face.  The trio didn’t know whether to laugh or be disturbed.

 

 “You three!” the girl called out, beaming widely as if the sight of the trio was like a moment of great happiness.  “Merlin, I’m  _ so _ glad you’re here!  You have to feel this!”

 

She reached out and grabbed Callidus’s hand, since he was the closest to her, and used his hand to stroke the marble statue.  “Isn’t it just so  _ smooth _ ?” the Ravenclaw asked, sounding deeply contented.  “Merlin, and your hand!  Your hand is so soft!”  She stared down at Callidus’s hand and proceeded to pet it.

 

Callidus snatched his hand away, while Harry and Draco tried and failed to muffle their laughs.  When Callidus gave his friends a dark glare, it only fueled their laughter until they were doubled over, and barely able to breath.

 

 “Let’s get out of here,” Callidus growled, letting Harry and Draco trail behind him.

 

 “Where are you going?” the Ravenclaw wailed.  “Wait! I  _ love _ you!  I love everyone!  Oh wow, this statue is so  _ smooth _ .”

 

They turned yet another corner until they were out of sight of the strange Ravenclaw girl, and Callidus impatiently waited until Harry and Draco had calmed their guffaws.

 

 “Is -” Harry wiped away a tear of laughter, “is she supposed to act like that?  That was nothing like Flint.  It was  _ hilarious _ though.”

 

Callidus frowned.  Perhaps that particular Ravenclaw was just unusually sensitive to the friendliness potion.  He had tested the potion extensively on rats, and had also tested it on Flint.  But perhaps he should have done more human trials. 

 

 “I don’t know,” Callidus admitted.  “I - let’s just see how it affected everyone else.  The potion won’t harm them, but I’m surprised it could be that strong.”

 

Harry and Draco nodded in agreement.  They made their way to the library, and the sight that greeted them was nothing like what they had expected.  To begin with, everyone looked blindingly happy.  There were students lying spread-eagled on the floor, expressions filled with awe.  There were students sprawled on tables caressing the smooth wooden texture, much like the Ravenclaw in the hall had caressed the statue.  There was a ring of students, arms around each other's shoulders, swaying as they sang an incoherent melody.  And was that Madam Pince, in the middle of a massive group hug?

 

 “Merlin,” Harry exhaled.  “What happened?”  He gave Callidus a confused look.  “Was it supposed to be like this?”

 

Callidus’s expression was pinched.  “I - it appears the dose was far too strong.”  He searched his mind for answers.  “It might have been the case that Flint just happened to have an unusually high tolerance for the potion.”  He shook his head.  “Merlin.  We have to find those containers.”

 

As they entered the unusually noisy and chaotic library, they caught snatches of what some of the students were saying.

 

 “You’re the best!”

 

 “No, you’re the best!”

 

 “Haha, you’re both the best!” 

 

They edged around a student who was somehow lying on a pile of books.  It was fortunate that Madam Pince was just as affected by the friendliness potion as the students.  Otherwise, she would have been traumatized by what was happening to her books.

 

 “You’re all so wonderful,” the student happily sighed, seemingly to his books.  “I just want to marry you.  I want to marry all of you!  And we’re going to have a big, happy book family.”

 

Callidus knew he should have been treating this as more of a scientific observation, but it was hard to hold back his laughter.  What in the world could have caused the friendliness potion to make people feel affection for inanimate objects?  He mentally catalogued the information, reminding himself to write it down later.

 

They managed to find several empty containers of the vapourized bombs, and quickly pocketed them.  

 

 “Do you think they’re like that because Peeves threw so many of the vapour bombs in here?” Harry mused, his eyes sparkling with humour.

 

Callidus shrugged.  “It’s possible.”

 

The trio skirted around a mass of students who attempted to pull them into a group hug.  

 

Draco snickered.  “I hope they remember this tomorrow.”

 

 “They should,” Callidus replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  “It will be interesting to witness.”

 

 “Y’know, if the potion is this this strong, maybe it’s a good thing that it mostly affected Ravenclaws.  Could you imagine how furious Slytherins would be if this was them?”  Harry considered.

 

Draco winced.  “Merlin.  Then the feud would never end.  And no one would ever dare speak of this again.” 

 

 “You have to admit, it  _ would  _ be funny though,” Harry pointed out, before grinning.  “Especially if it hit the stuffy and traditional ones.”

 

The trio passed by a blonde first year, sitting at one of the library tables, with her head tilted to one side and a dreamy smile on her face.

 

 “The nargles have all disappeared,” the girl murmured, airily, sounding pleased.  “I rather like this.”

 

The trio gave her an odd look.  What in the world were nargles?  The blonde girl turned her head to look towards them.  But instead of trying to invade their boundaries with acts of affection, she gave them a faraway smile.  

 

 “Don’t worry,” the girl reassured them.  “Tomorrow, they’ll be too busy studying why this happened to be mad about it.  Oh.  And you forgot this.”  She reached into her robe pockets and then handed them an empty vapour bomb container.

 

The three boys paled.  “What makes you think this is ours?” Draco asked, sounding a bit too defensive.

 

The blonde smiled warmly.  “You needn’t worry.  I won’t tell anyone.  I think it’s lovely that you would do something to try and make people feel better.  Even if it went a bit sideways.”

 

Harry laughed sheepishly.  “Yeah.  We weren’t really expecting this.”

 

 “Harry!” Draco hissed.  “We have no reason to trust her!”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Yeah, but we need the container anyway.  Thank you, er -”

 

 “Luna,” the girl answered dreamily. 

 

 “I’m Harry.  And this is Draco and Callidus.”

 

Luna nodded.  “I know.”

 

 “Erm,” Harry gave her an uncertain look,  “well, thanks for the container.”  His expression became puzzled.  “By the way, why aren’t you affected like everyone else?”  

 

Callidus had been wondering the exact same thing.

 

 “Oh, I am,” the girl lightly replied.  “It’s just that, instead of hugging everyone with my arms, I’m hugging them with my heart.  It’s quite nice, like a cup of hot cocoa, with extra peppermint whipped cream, but instead of tasting it just on your tongue, you taste it everywhere.  You should try it.”

 

 “Erm.  Okay,” Harry answered sceptically.  

 

 “Let’s get out of here,” Draco muttered.

 

Callidus nodded.  “We should try and find the rest of the containers, before our next class.”

 

Once they were out of hearing distance from Luna, Draco remarked: “I think I know that girl.  Lovegood.  Her family is known for being not quite right in the head.”

 

 “I thought she was nice,” Harry defended.

 

 “As long as she doesn’t tell anyone,” Draco added darkly.  “But knowing the Lovegoods, no one would believe her anyway.”

 

Just as they were about to exit the library, a suit of armour ambled in, and began to mime being in an invisible box.  The sight of it caused the potion-affected students to cry out in surprise.

 

 “We have to save it!” one of the students exclaimed, causing a bunch of students to rush towards the suit of armour, only to discover that there was no invisible box.

 

 “There, there, you’re safe with us,” another student reassured the armour, with a gentle pat on its arm.  “We’ll protect you.”

 

The trio quickly pushed past the crowd of students into the relative emptiness of the hallway.  

 

 “Is it just me, or has all that affection made them all delusional?” Draco observed.

 

Callidus winced.  “The potion will need - further testing.”

 

 “I think it’s great!” Harry chimed.  “I mean, our original idea was that it would be used on aggressive people to make them friendly.  It definitely makes people friendly!”

 

Callidus gave Harry a weak smile.  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

 

The trio were able to find the rest of the empty containers relatively quickly.  Though Harry had kept a few of the vapour bombs, intending to use them, the boys were so surprised by the strength of the friendliness potion that they forgot about the extra bombs.   And when the trio caught sight of a frazzled looking Filch, there wasn’t an opportunity to use the vapour bomb because of the close proximity of the equally frazzled looking professors.

 

Several classes in the afternoon were cancelled that day because a few professors had been hit by the friendliness potion, and were in no state to teach.  A number of students had been brought to the infirmary, not because they had been injured, but because their behaviour was so unusual.  However, Madam Pomfrey kicked them out once she determined that there was nothing seriously wrong with them (and a few of them had tried to hug the comatose student afflicted with the Orange Madness.)

  
This detail was largely forgotten by Callidus, who was too preoccupied with the humourous chaos created by the suit of armour and friendliness pranks.  But the memory of this bit of information would return to Callidus a few days later in sharp focus.  After all, that would be when the second case of the Orange Madness hit Hogwarts, and all the goodwill created by the two pranks would be lost.


	24. Chapter 24

The next day, all anyone could talk about was the suit of armour and friendliness pranks.  Because it had disproportionately affected the Ravenclaws, no one thought that it had anything to do with the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud.  On top of that, several students had come forth, saying that they remembered Peeves throwing some sort of object while blowing raspberries and then laughing maniacally.

 

The two pranks had been amusing enough that they had, in fact, alleviated a great deal of inter-house tension.   The Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs couldn’t help looking at the Ravenclaws and giggling at their absurd behaviour.  And just as the blonde Luna Lovegood had predicted, most of the Ravenclaws were too intent on the intellectual challenge of understanding why their behaviour had changed so drastically to be upset about what had happened.  Besides, they were able to objectively step away from the situation and admit that on top of being fun, it had felt  _ good _ .  The sensation of friendliness and affection was undeniably heartening.

 

If anything, the two pranks had added to the sense of Christmas spirit at Hogwarts.  It reminded the students that there was no need to be so cold to one another, and that there was something to be said for having an open heart.  The students that had been most strongly affected by the vapour bombs had let down their walls, and there was a renewed sense of optimism that things were going to get better.

 

Even the professors had softened, and those with a sense of humour, like Flitwick, seemed to find it as hilarious as the students, though it had disproportionately affected his House.  McGonagall simply sighed and accepted that children would be children, while Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to twinkle more merrily than ever.  But Filch (who the trio failed to prank in the end), was more ill-tempered than before, disgusted by the unruly actions of the students.

 

To the trio’s relief, it appeared the prank had actually worked, and for the most part, the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud had ended.  There were, of course, a few stragglers who hated their rival House enough to want to continue the conflict, but the majority were already looking ahead to the Christmas break, eager to see their families, and excited about not having to worry about school work for a couple of weeks.

 

But just because the feud was over, it didn’t mean that the students could simply relax.  In many of their classes, they had to study for tests, or finish up major projects, but at least, without the feud to worry about, they could actually focus on school work again.  It meant that the trio (or at least Callidus) were busy enough that there wasn’t much time to think about other matters.

 

So, when the second incident of Orange Madness occurred at Hogwarts a few days later, most of the school was caught off guard.  Unlike the first incident, which had occurred in a highly trafficked area of the school, the second case of the disease happened on one of the upper floors.  And also unlike the first incident, most of the students did not hear about it until after the fact.

 

 “The professors are trying to keep it quiet,” Parkinson claimed at supper that evening to the other second year Slytherins who were leaning in closer to listen, their food largely forgotten.

 

The Slytherins peered over at the Head Table, and it did appear is if their teachers were wearing grimmer expressions than usual.

 

 “How despicable!” Greengrass uttered with a mix of disgust and disdain.  “How low will Dumbledore stoop to to protect his precious mud -” she glanced over and noticed the trio giving her menacing glares, “- muggleborns?”

 

 “My mum has been sending me letters suggesting that it might be better for me to stay home rather than return to Hogwarts after the break,” Davis murmured.

 

 “I’m not scared of a stupid disease!  I’d fight anyone who tried to attack me!” Bulstrode bravely declared.

 

 “Are you sure someone is infected with the Orange Madness?  What if - what if it was just a hex gone wrong?” Harry asked Parkinson.  “Or something else?”

 

Parkinson scoffed.  “I trust my sources.  Have I ever led you astray?”

 

 “Well - I do recall one occasion when you claimed that fourth year Hufflepuff ran off and eloped with a fifth year Slytherin,” Callidus pointed out.  “And if my memory serves me well, it turned out that they both just came down with dragon pox at the same time.”

 

 “Oh shush,  _ Cal _ !” Parkinson irritably replied.  “It’s not my fault that their own close friends decided to spread that rumour.  I can’t control what other people say!  Besides, they  _ were _ outed as secretly dating, so I was half right.  The point is, that I’m quite certain about this.”

 

 “Well, out with it, Pansy!” Draco demanded.  “What exactly did you hear?”

 

A small smirk pulled at the corner of Parkinson’s lips, and it was clear that she relished the attention.  But as she began to regale the second years, her expression became more serious.  “Well, apparently the person who was infected was a Gryffindor.  One of the sixth years - I didn’t recognize or remember the name.  Some muggleborn-or-other, you know.”

 

 “A muggleborn!  I’m not surprised,” Greengrass declared.

 

 “The first person infected wasn’t a muggleborn,” Callidus reminded her.  “Or are you suggesting your divination abilities are so remarkable that you know something before it happens?  Should we be letting _ you _ tell the facts, Greengrass?  Assuming you ever have any.”

 

Greengrass glowered at him, unable to come up with an answer.

 

 “Anyway,” Parkinson continued, pulling the Slytherin’s attention back to herself, “the person who was infected attacked _ two _ people.  Two!  I think they were both Gryffindors as well - third years?  Or was it fourth.  Nevermind, that isn’t important.”  

 

The Slytherins surreptitiously glanced towards the Gryffindor table, and while the Gryffindors did seem subdued, it was difficult to determine if it was because they were upset about the new rumours or for other reasons.

 

Parkinson leaned forward.  “They say that the two Gryffindors that got attacked were  _ horribly  _ mauled.  As if someone threw them in a pit with a vicious cockatrice!”

 

Nott snorted, and lowered the book he was currently reading.  “Unlikely.  A human’s blunt fingernails and teeth couldn’t do the sort of slashing damage that a cockatrice is capable of.”

 

Parkinson brushed him off.  “Oh, shush, Theo.  You’re ruining my story!  What I’m trying to say is that the infected person  _ seriously _ hurt those two Gryffindors.  And while I ordinarily couldn’t care less what becomes of Gryffindors, it’s still terrible for this to happen at Hogwarts.  They’re all in the infirmary now, but the matron isn’t letting anyone in to see them.”

 

 “How terrible!” Greengrass remarked, though it was evident to anyone who knew her that she didn’t actually care about the well being of the Gryffindors.  “Do you think they might have been disfigured?”

 

Parkinson shrugged.  “Maybe.”

 

 “Hrmph. Well.  I believe we now have more reason than ever why associating with mud - muggleborns is a bad idea,” Greengrass opined.  “Frankly, if Gryffindors are willing to take that risk, then maybe they deserved what happened.”

 

Harry shook his head.  “That’s twisted, Daphne.  Do you  _ really _ believe that?  They may be Gryffindors, but they’re still  _ people _ .”

 

When it was clear that none of the other second years were willing to take Greengrass’s stance, she became defensive.  “I care about  _ Slytherins _ .  I care about  _ us _ .  Why would I care about a bunch of people I barely talk to?”

 

 “We  _ do _ have to look out for ourselves,” Draco conceded.  “Dumbledore doesn’t look out for us.  Who else is going to?”

 

 “Exactly!” Greengrass agreed, triumphantly.

 

Harry shook his head.  “You can care about other people while looking out for Slytherins.”

 

 “Yeah?  Well, what if it happened to one of us?”  Draco argued.  “If someone with Orange Madness ever attacked you or Callidus, I’d never forgive that person.  I’d  _ Avada Kedavra _ them in a heartbeat, disease or not.” His grey eyes were firm with conviction.

 

Harry’s expression became uncertain.  “I - hm - I don’t know what I’d do if someone attacked either of you.  I’d never want it to happen.”

 

 “At least we have ways we can protect ourselves,” Callidus reminded them, thinking of the spells they were learning in ARMED as well as their vapour bombs.

 

Harry nodded.  “Yeah.”  He bit down on his lower lip before looking at Callidus.  “What do you think  _ you’d _ do?  If someone attacked us.”

 

Callidus hummed and knit his brows, glancing towards Draco and then back at Harry.  “From everything I’ve read about the disease, once people reach the aggressive phase, it happens quickly and brutally.  I might not  _ Avada Kedavra _ them like Draco would.  It isn’t practical to use a spell none of us have tried before.  But I’d take them down.  Fast.  Whatever I hit them with, I’d want to make sure they don’t get back up again.”  Callidus knew he’d never let anyone hurt his friends/brothers if he could help it.

 

Draco nodded in approval.  “I can agree to that.”

 

The Slytherins continued to speculate about the new case of the disease, but it wasn’t until the following day that the rumour was confirmed.  By then, the whole school was already abuzz with the story, and when the professors broke the bad news, it only confirmed what the students knew.  Nonetheless, hearing the confirmation of their fears was like being tainted with a dense miasma that spelled doom.  The humour and light mood that had been created by the pranks was gone, with most students keeping their heads down, and counting the days until they could leave the tense atmosphere at Hogwarts and return to their families.

 

In this regard, Callidus was no different.  Of course, in his case, he genuinely wanted to do well in his classes, but with all that had happened, he found himself just wanting to be a regular student again.  However, Harry had taken a different perspective.

 

 “I can’t stand this!” Harry vehemently declared, as the trio were seated around one of the fireplaces in the common room.  It was an unusual occurrence, since they happened to have the space all to themselves.  

 

“Just when things were starting to get better around here,  _ this _ had to happen,” Harry continued.  “We need to think up a new prank.”

 

Draco furrowed his brows.  “With the way you’re talking, Harry, it doesn’t sound like you have a fun prank in mind.  It sounds more like you just want to help people.”

 

Harry’s expression turned stubborn.  “You thought the friendliness bombs were useless when you first heard the idea.  But when we actually carried out the prank, you thought it was funny.  I  _ saw _ you laughing at those Ravenclaws in the library.”

 

 “I didn’t think the friendly bombs would be useless,” Draco argued.

 

 “It must be interesting, living in a reality where you never have to confront your own mistakes,” Callidus murmured sardonically. “How does one go about being completely delusional?”

 

 “Oh, shut up,” Draco answered crossly.  “Fine.  You two were right about the friendliness bombs.”  He turned back to Harry.  “Are you saying you have some sort of prank in mind?”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Not really.  Not yet.  But I’ll think of something.  Hogwarts is my home.  I hate what it’s becoming, with the Orange Madness and all that.”

 

Callidus thinned his lips, his expression contemplative.  Harry’s words had struck a chord.  Hogwarts was also his home - after all, the rest of his family was dead and gone, and so too were the other remnants of his past.  Hogwarts and his friends were all he had.  But while Callidus could bury himself with school work and potions research, Harry couldn’t do the same.  And perhaps Harry was right; if Hogwarts was their home, shouldn’t they try to make it better?  However, for Callidus, making people feel better wasn’t enough.  Part of what was driving his newest potions research was a sliver of hope that he could shed light on the problem of the Orange Madness.  He had no illusions that he would be the one to discover the cure where the researchers at St. Mungo’s had failed.  But he hoped he could do  _ something. _

 

That night, Callidus went to bed with his mind like a merry-go-round of swirling thoughts.  Sleep did not come easily, and as he stared up at the canopy of his bed, he wondered what the future would bring.

 

Callidus was on his way to the library.  It had felt like ages since he had spent time with the Gryffindor girls, and he was looking forward to meeting up with them and hearing their unique perspectives on what was going on.  Though his friendship with the Gryffindors didn’t feel the same as the close bond with Harry and Draco, he still felt close to them in a different way.  He turned a corner, and suddenly, there was a strange and familiar feeling in his mind, like it was being pulled and stretched, and manipulated by some outside force.  Moments later, a familiar girl appeared from around the bend.  It was the fifth year Slytherin girl, wearing a cruel smile on her lizard-like face.

 

The feeling in his mind, and the expression on the girl’s face caused Callidus’s memories to slam into him, with merciless force.  He felt like he had taken a hard blow, and the air had been knocked out of his lungs, as he remembered not only the last time this had happened to him, but the horrible pain of it as well.  He knew then, that he was dreaming.

 

Frantically, he tried to pull his consciousness away, to be anywhere so long as he could get away from the predatory smile of that fifth year.  But her magic was too strong, and he was like a fox hopelessly ensnared in the vicious teeth of a steel trap.  He wasn’t sure if he could get away without ripping his own mind apart.

 

The girl smirked.  “You remember?  How interesting.  It suggests that you have a naturally strong mind.  But -” she chuckled, “not strong enough.”

 

 “What do you want?” Callidus growled.  “I haven’t had anything to do with Gryffindors.  And the feud is  _ over _ .”

 

The girl hummed.  “My friends should be here any moment.”  She paused, and just as she claimed, the three boys appeared one after the other.

 

 “Fiiinally!” the eager boy exclaimed.  “Why couldn’t we have done this  _ sooner _ ?”

 

The girl rolled her eyes and shook her head.  “Seriously, Alphie.  I’ve  _ told  _ you.  I’ve been busy with that huge project that Flitwick gave us, and it takes a lot of energy to do this kind of magic.  I can’t just do this sort of thing day in and day out.  But if you’re so  _ keen _ on being able to dream walk, then I know of an interesting ritual that would let me siphon off your magic.  Though the effects might be - erm - permanently damaging.  For you.”

 

The mousey-haired boy elbowed the one named Alphie.  “Just leave off, yeah?  We’re lucky that she even lets us join in on this.  Most people never have an opportunity to experience this kind of mind-magic.”

 

 “Drefen gets it,” the girl told Alphie.  “Why can’t you?  Anyway, we’re wasting time.”

 

 “I’m not going to forget it this time,” Callidus swore.  “I am going to remember.  And you will  _ regret _ doing this to me.”

 

The dark-skinned boy arched his eyebrows.  “Rather arrogant, isn’t he.  Especially considering his position.”

 

The girl smirked.  “Our little traitor here  _ claims _ that he has nothing to do with Gryffindors.  He claims the feud is  _ over _ .”

 

The mousey-haired boy, Drefen, narrowed his eyes.  “Our feud with the Gryffindors is  _ never _ truly over.  A true Slytherin would know that.”

 

 “The fact of the matter is, you  _ will _ forget,” the girl affirmed.  “You’re weak.  And you know what?  I almost don’t even care whether or not you associate with Gryffindors.  Because Drefen is right.  You’re not a true Slytherin.  But -” she paused, “- it’s not all bad.  Well, for us.  Not for you.  I’ve always wanted to have more opportunities to practice my family magic.  And here you are, landing right into our laps.  Besides, I want to blow off a little steam after all those bloody exams.”

 

 “Yesss,” Alphie eagerly hissed.  “Let’s make him suffer!”

 

The dark-skinned boy rolled his eyes at Alphie.  “I’m glad this is just a dream.  Your lack of restraint is embarrassing.”

 

 “Oh, shut up!” Alphie snapped back.  “It feels good, all right?  And I like feeling good.  You gonna get on my case for wanting to feel good?”

 

 “Boys,” the girl growled.  “Keep in mind that my strength has it’s limits.  Let’s do what we came here to do, yes?”

 

The three fifth year boys nodded in agreement, pulling out their wands and a pointing them at Callidus.

  
Callidus jutted forth his jaw.  He didn’t want to show weakness.  But on some level, he knew that he couldn’t fight the girl’s magic.  At least not yet.  Though it was sickening and horrible to remember what had happened last time, it also meant that he remembered what had helped.  He might not be able to stop the dream magic.  But he could calm and empty his mind, and take the worst edge off the pain.  By the time the first torturous spell hit Callidus, he was ready.  And though the pain was still like nothing that Callidus had ever felt, he knew that he could handle it.  


	25. Chapter 25

It was finally Christmas break and trio were on the Hogwarts Express, which was slowing down as it pulled up to King’s Cross Station in London.  Callidus could hear the other students excitedly crying out as they spotted their families, eager for the holidays despite the gloomy shadow cast by the Orange Madness.   Callidus was sharing a compartment with Harry and Draco, with Callidus and Harry on one side while Draco was indolently sprawled out on the other.  Harry had decided to join Draco at the manor this year, without even a protest from Dumbledore (unlike last year.)  As for Callidus, he would be spending his break with the Filodoxos, and seeing his friends only during one of the Malfoy winter fetes.  Callidus's decision had been made more out of a vague sense of obligation than anything.  After receiving a letter from Madam Filodoxos, in which she had gushed about how excited she was for the holiday season, and how she wanted to know all his favourite foods to prepare for the Yuletide feast, Callidus couldn't bring himself to tell her that he would prefer to stay at the manor instead.  But there were perks to visiting the Filodoxos.  If this trip was anything like the summer, he'd have access to Madam Filodoxos’ amazing lab and potions ingredients.

 

Callidus was aware that Caiside and Hermione were somewhere on the train.  He wasn't sure if Ginny had joined them or not - many of the students would be staying at Hogwarts because in spite of the recent incident of the disease (which was plastered all over the  _ Daily Prophet _ in semi-hysterical tones), the school was still considered one of the safest places in Britain.  And while Callidus knew he could have made his way over to their train compartment to find out, the idea made him uncomfortable and he decided against it.  The feud might have been over but the feelings of deep mistrust still lingered between Slytherins and Gryffindors.  Callidus didn't want to somehow make the situation worse (or so he told himself).

 

As the train ground to a stop, Callidus caught sight of his foster parents.  Madam Filodoxos was scanning the train windows, perhaps trying to spot Caiside or Callidus.  Segnis Filodoxos’ expression was distant, and Callidus had a feeling that the man was distracted by a melody in his head.

 

 “So we'll see you at the winter party?” Harry said to Callidus, while they waited for the crowd of students to clear.

 

Callidus nodded.  “Indeed.”

 

 “Don't forget to dress up.  And your hair had better be shiny and clean,” Draco warned.

 

Callidus frowned.  “My hair is always clean.”

 

 “Clean looking,” Draco clarified.

 

 “And I don’t own dress robes,” Callidus added.

 

 “Then buy them,” Draco replied, as if it was self-evident.

 

Callidus huffed with irritation, shaking his head.  “Yes, mother.”

 

Harry snickered with amusement.  “Just let him be, Draco.  Besides, I don’t have dress robes either, and you know my hair is probably going to be worse.”

 

Draco looked up at Harry's unruly mop of hair.  “We'll see about that,” he muttered, as though Harry's hair was some challenge to be vanquished.

 

When the mass of students began to clear, the trio made their way out of the train and onto the platform.

 

 “See you soon!” Harry called out, while Draco added: “Do  _ not _ forget your hair.  And - enjoy your holidays.”  He looked over at Harry, before returning his gaze to Callidus.  “It’s going to be a little strange without you.”

 

The corners of Callidus’s lips lifted upwards. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

 

Harry grinned brightly.  “Is this your way of saying you’re going to miss each other?”

 

Draco scowled  “I didn’t say anything like that.”

 

Harry laughed.  “If you say so.”  He turned back to Callidus.  “Happy Yule, Cal!”  And with a final wave, Harry and Draco parted ways with Callidus.  

 

As Callidus pushed his way past the families, many of whom were smothering their children with affection (and some, who were stuck up enough to watch the displays of public affection with disdain), he met up with Caiside.  The sight of her gave him a roiling sense of nausea, and he paused and blinked, unsettled.  This wasn’t Hogwarts.  There wasn’t any reason for him to feel uneasy about seeing her here (even though there were plenty of purebloods around.)  And besides, Caiside herself was a pureblood, Gryffindor or not.

 

 “Hello Callidus,” she greeted with a touch of frostiness in her voice, and a face like stone.  “Haven’t seen  _ you _ in a while.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “I’ve been busy,” he replied defensively.

 

 “Oh?  Too busy to send us more than a single note?  Too busy to make any effort to try and visit?” she asked accusingly.

 

A crease appeared between his brows.  “I lost track of time.  A lot has happened this month.  I like spending time with you, and Hermione and Ginny.”

 

 “Do you?  Hmm.”  Caiside appeared to be weighing his words, and Callidus had a feeling that the words just weren’t measuring up to her standards.  “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

The pair of them made their way over to the Filodoxos, and Callidus was embarrassed (but also a bit pleased) that Madam Filodoxos greeted him as if he were her own son.  Segnis gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, saying: “You know, this occasion really calls for writing a new song.  With horns I think.  Yes, a strong brass section.  And sea bells!  Nothing quite like the ocean to remind one of home!”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes.  “ _ Dad _ , we don’t even live anywhere near the ocean.”

 

 “And shell sounds.  There’s nothing that has the same haunting nostalgia as ocean murmur of shells,” Segnis continued, too caught up in his own idea to pay heed to Caiside’s comment.  He began to pat the sides of his robes.  “Where’s my parchment?  I  _ must _ write this down!  It’s too important to forget!”

 

 “How was the journey?” Madam Filodoxos asked, straightening up Caiside’s robes (to Caiside’s irritation.)

 

 “Well, it involved a train.  Moving on tracks,” Caiside acerbically replied, attempting pull away from her fussy mother.  “There might have even been some acceleration and deceleration involved.”

 

Madam Filodoxos huffed, tugging sharply enough on Caiside’s robes to cause her to wince.  “Impossible child!  That’s not what I meant.”  Madam Filodoxos turned to Callidus, her expression gentling.  “Callidus?”

 

 “The journey was fine,” he replied neutrally.

 

Returning to the Filodoxos’ household was a strange experience.  As they were spat out by the fireplace (they travelled by floo,) Madam Filodoxos remarked: “Your room is just as I left it, Callidus, dear.”  

 

Callidus hadn’t left any personal effects in the guest room.  It was strange that Madam Filodoxos was calling it his room.  And yet, some corner of his heart was gladdened by the warm welcome.  The Filodoxos might be a bit odd, but it was truly generous of them to welcome him with open arms, as they did.  He might not have seen the Filodoxos as his family, but at least he knew he was wanted (though he couldn’t forget that the Prince name had something to do with it.)

 

After supper (during which, most of the conversation was carried by Madam Filodoxos who seemed intent on interrogating Caiside about her time with the Gryffindors, as though trying to assess how far the Gryffindor corruption had spread), Callidus made his way up to his room, and sat down on the side of his bed, exhausted.  Though the entire day had consisted of little more than a long train ride, he felt worn out.  

 

He knew he should change out of his robes, but instead, he plopped down on the bed, letting his eyes drift closed.  But though he was tired, he found himself thinking about Caiside’s words.  What did she want to talk to him about?  He didn’t think he had done anything wrong (though some small part of him felt guilty, despite his stubborn and failed efforts to ignore it.)  And besides, the situation wasn’t anything like Hermione had to face last year.  The girls had each other for company.  Was it really such a big deal if he got a little carried away with his own projects, and forgot to communicate with them?  Despite the struggle going on in his head, Callidus managed to eventually drift off to sleep.  It wasn’t like his problems were going anywhere.  Unfortunately.

 

The next day, after the fuzziness dissipated from Callidus’s mind, his first thought was that it was strange to wake up without Harry and Draco nearby.  Harry’s words came back to him, and with a rueful grimace, he realized that Harry was right: he missed his friends.  They weren’t even just his friends - despite being a foster child of the Filodoxos’, it was Harry and Draco that felt like his true family, blood brothers or not.  Callidus sighed, running a hand down his face.  He would have to write those two later.  That and try and ignore the small twinge of envy he felt that they got to spend the break together, while he remained apart.  Was this how Draco felt when Harry and Callidus got to spend the summer at Hogwarts?

 

After finishing his morning routine, and changing out of yesterday’s clothes, he made his way downstairs to the breakfast table.  Caiside and Madam Filodoxos were both already at the table, and after greeting him, Madam Filodoxos informed him that Segnis had “caught a wave of inspiration, and will likely be holed away in the music room for a while.”  

 

He sat down next to Caiside, ignoring the irrational fluttering feeling of anxiety in his gut.  His pride didn’t want to admit that the fifth year Slytherins words had affected him more than he realized.  The Filodoxos house elf brought him a plate of food, while Madam Filodoxos asked: “What are your plans for the day, Callidus?  You’re free to make use of my lab again, if you wish.”

 

 “Thank you,” Callidus answered.  “However, I need to purchase some dress robes for a fete.”  He paused.  “Draco has also informed me all of you have been invited as well.  You should be receiving the invites within the next few days.”

 

Madam Filodoxos’ eyes widened.  “Draco - You mean, Draco Malfoy?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “Yes.”

 

 “Why - we’ve been invited to a Malfoy affair?  Caiside, did you hear that?”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes.  “Yes, mum.  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sitting right here.”

 

 “This is such an honour!” Madam Filodoxos exclaimed, slightly breathless.  “Oh my, I wasn’t expecting this.”  She raised a hand to her cheek.  “We’ll all have to get dress robes.  We  _ must  _ look our best!”

 

Caiside frowned.  “ _ Mum _ , we already have dress robes!”

 

Madam Filodoxos shook her head.  “Oh, but those robes are  _ old _ .  You don’t seem to understand, Caiside.  The Malfoys!”

 

 “I’ve met Draco before, mum,” Caiside irritably replied.  “We’ve even spoken a few times.”

 

Madam Filodoxos’ brows lifted in surprise.  “You have?” 

 

 “Yes.  And he’s a just wizard, like any other,” Caiside continued.  “I suppose he has decent manners, when he makes an effort.”

 

 “Caiside!” Madam Filodoxos’ admonished.  “The Malfoys most certainly are  _ Not _ like other wizards.”  She shook her head, hand pressed to her temple.  “What did I ever do to be burdened with such a willful child.  The Malfoys are one of the foremost families in Magical Britain.”

 

Caiside only rolled her eyes again in reply.

 

 “Oh my, we must go shopping right away!  And what should I wear?  Perhaps I should do up my hair - I would need to book an appointment for that.” Madam Filodoxos’ eyes were bright.  If anything, she was acting almost girlish in her excitement, as though she had just been invited to her first ball.  It made Callidus want to shuffle uncomfortably in his seat.  He had a feeling that Madam Filodoxos would be pleased to be invited to the Malfoy’s fete, but he wasn’t expecting this.

 

 “What about dad?” Caiside wondered.  “He won’t be happy to be pulled away from work - not when he’s like this.”

 

Madam Filodoxos waved away Caiside’s concerns.  “Oh, he’ll be fine.  He can bring his notes with him.  You know how your father is - he’ll just hear his songs in his head.”

 

In a little over an hour, the Filodoxos were prepared and ready to head out to Diagon Alley for a shopping trip.  Caiside had attempted to protest, saying that it would be a scene of madness to go shopping this close to Yule, but Madam Filodoxos brushed her off.  As for Segnis, his sunny nature overrode any irritation he might have felt about his work being disrupted.  Instead, the man had beamed and cheerfully decided that seeing a bustling crowd would only provide new inspiration.

 

Caiside turned out to be wrong about Diagon Alley.  There was a lot of people there, and yet, it wasn’t at all packed like Caiside and Callidus had expected.  As Callidus looked at the faces around him, he couldn’t help but noticed that people looked strained.  Shouldn’t they be feeling more festive?

 

 “What’s going on?” Caiside muttered.  “I’ve never seen Diagon Alley so empty at this time of year”

 

 “I wouldn’t call this empty,” Callidus muttered, but Caiside ignored him.

 

 “I imagine people are afraid because of that Orange business,” Segnis mused.  “Terrible word, orange.  Nothing rhymes with it!  Now reddish-yellow - I can work with that.  Even yellow-red works!  But orange - the person who invented the word should be put down!”

 

 “That’s rather harsh,” Caiside muttered.

 

 “If the problem of the Orange Madness is so bad, I’m surprised that we’re here.  Isn’t it rather risky?” Callidus wondered.

 

 “No need to worry yourself, Callidus dear,” Madam Filodoxos reassured him.  “We have everything well in hand.”

 

Callidus frowned.  Madam Filodoxos sounded rather sure.  Strangely sure.  But perhaps she had some form of protection that he wasn’t aware of.

 

Despite the lack of crowds, Callidus still didn’t particularly enjoy being surrounded by pushy strangers.

 

 “It’s a shame that dress robes aren’t offered by owl post,” Callidus muttered, the tense mood of Diagon Alley affecting him.  He scowled as an older wizard bumped into him, without even an apology.

 

After a moment of silence, Caiside replied. “Dress robes  _ are _ offered by owl post.”

 

Callidus arched his brows.  “They are?”

 

Caiside nodded.  “Yes.  It’s just that they’re hideous, and fit terribly.”

 

Callidus’s lips turned downwards.  “Odd, that there isn’t a solution for that.  Aren’t there spells that can resize a robe?”

 

 “Yes,” Caiside answered.  “But spells can’t fix ugly.”

 

Callidus smirked, amused, and Caiside narrowed her eyes.  “I’m still not happy with you, you know.  But we’ll talk when we get back from this stupid shopping trip.”

 

Callidus’s amusement quickly faded.  He thinned his lips and nodded.  

 

Shopping for new dress robes was an arduous process, despite the relative lack of crowds, and the support of magic.  By the time the family returned to the Filodoxos household, Callidus felt sapped.  Some of that tiredness was likely due to Caiside’s determined efforts to show Callidus her displeasure through peevish looks, and clipped responses.

 

He trudged up to his bedroom, but before he could enter his room, he heard Caiside’s voice from behind.

 

 “Stop right there,” she ordered, as she tromped up the stairs.  Callidus faltered and looked towards her, only to feel her grip his robe and drag her into her own room.  She released him, shut the door behind her, and then crossed her arms.

 

 “Now we talk,” she said, her near-black eyes piercing.

 

 “Yes.  Now we talk,” Callidus echoed, trying to gain some feeling of control.

 

Caiside huffed, and uncrossed her arms, shaking her head.  “Merlin!  You have  _ no _ clue, do you?  Uuugh!  Boys!  It’s  _ soo _ annoying!”

 

Callidus frowned.  “I understand that you’re upset that I’ve been distant in the past month.”

 

Caiside snorted.  “Distant.  Right.” 

 

She took a step forward, and Callidus’s anxiety increased to alarming proportions.  As if moving of their own accord, his feet stepped back, trying to gain some distance between him and the irritable girl in front of him.

 

Caiside’s expression turned into something like a puzzle scowl.  “Callidus - you look - erm - afraid?”

 

 “I’m not afraid!” Callidus quickly replied, sounding far too defensive.

 

Caiside’s brows met in a furrow.  “There’s something - different about you.”

 

 “What do you mean?” Callidus asked, but his voice sounded strange, and his heart was galloping in his chest.

 

 “Callidus.” Caiside’s voice was firm, but the irritated edge was now gone.  “What happened to you?  I know things have been difficult in the past month - have the Slytherins been getting on your case?”  She took another step forward, and Callidus backed away.  But Callidus’s sense of control was slowly reasserting itself, and as he reminded himself to keep his mind blank and empty, he began to calm down.

 

 “I’m all right,” Callidus said, almost as much to himself as to Caiside. 

 

 “Callidus,” Caiside repeated.  “Considering that we haven’t spoken for weeks, I think I’d know when something is different about you.  And something  _ is _ different about you.”

 

Callidus didn’t care for Caiside’s tone.  “What’s your point?”

 

Caiside huffed and rolled her eyes.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I  _ am _ your friend.  I’m trying to help, all right?”

 

Upon hearing her words, Callidus’s defensiveness quickly faded.  He nodded.  “All right.  I haven’t had much difficulties with my House.  The only thing is -”

 

 “Yes?”

 

Callidus grimaced.  “A group of fifth years.”  He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.  “They accused me of being a traitor, but most of seemed to be just talk.”

 

 “Just talk,” Caiside repeated, sounding sceptical.

 

 “It was nothing.”  He paused.  “They did cast some sort of spell on me.  But as far as I can tell, all it did was make me feel queasy the next morning.”

 

Caiside’s blinked, incredulous.  “They cast a spell on you.  And you didn’t think to tell anyone?  What about your Head of House - Professor Slughorn?”

 

Callidus scrunched up his face.  “Slughorn?  Why would I tell him?  Besides, he’s all the way up on the sixth floor.”

 

 “Then one of the other professors?  Or Professor Dumbledore?” 

 

 “Dumbledore?”  He scoffed.  “No.  Besides, this is a Slytherin matter.  I wouldn’t involve outsiders,” Callidus replied, trying to brush off Caiside’s concerns. 

 

 “So you think you can handle this on your own?” Caiside asked doubtfully. 

 

 “I’m capable,” Callidus argued.  “I spent the majority of last year learning to sense magic, and I’ve sensed no foreign magic on myself, other than on the day they cast the spell.”

 

 “You can sense magic?”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “It’s not something I openly share.”  A small, but proud smile quirked his lips upwards.  “I prefer to keep my cards close.”

 

Caiside huffed with exasperation.  “Slytherins.”  She narrowed her eyes as she examined Callidus, making him feel like an insect under inspection.  “You may say you can handle this on your own, but we’re going to help you, like it or not.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “What do you mean ‘we’?”

 

Caiside smirked.  “You don’t think I would be able to do all that much on my own, do you?  That’s what  _ friends _ are for.”

 

 ‘ _ No _ ,’ Callidus thought.  “You’re involving Hermione and Ginny.”

 

 “I am,” Caiside answered with self-satisfaction.  “Come on!  Hermione’s brilliant!  And Ginny’s - erm - enthusiastic!”

 

 “Then what are you?” Callidus asked, darkly.

 

Caiside gave him an amused look.  “Determined.”

 

Callidus groaned.  “There’s really no reason for you to involve yourself.  I’ve noticed no effects from that spell, and those fifth years haven’t bothered me since that day.”

 

Caiside shook her head stubbornly.  “No.  There’s something  _ different _ about you.  You might not see it, but  _ I _ can.  You’re - you’re skittish - no -  _ scared  _ \- around me!  And I wouldn’t be surprised if you reacted to Hermione and Ginny in the same way!”

 

 “I’m not scared of you!” 

 

Caiside crossed her arms.  “Why don’t I believe you?” Her voice dripped with doubt.  “And besides, if nothing was wrong, would you be so defensive?”

 

 “I’m not -” Callidus cut himself off, feeling his face flush with frustration and embarrassment.

 

Caiside sighed, unfolding her arms, and stepping forward.  Carefully, as though approaching a high-strung animal, she placed her hand on his arm.  Callidus forced himself to stand firm, but it didn’t feel good. 

 

 “You believe me when I say I’m trying to help you, don’t you?” Caiside asked gently.

 

Callidus knit his brows.  “Yes -”

 

Caiside raised her brows.  “You don’t sound too sure of that.”

 

Callidus exhaled heavily.  “I believe you.  And - yes.  You’re right.”

 

 “Oh?”

 

 “My reaction towards you doesn’t seem right - it doesn’t seem normal.  Give me a moment.”  He focused his magic, attempting a more intensive scan of his magic.  The effort was tiring though, especially because of the stress he felt from close proximity to Caiside.  By the time he was done, he felt almost breathless.  He shook his head, though the action made him dizzy.  “I don’t sense anything.”  But instead of feeling reassured, he now felt uneasy.  What was going on?

 

 “Bloody hell,” he swore under his breath.  “What did they do to me?”

 

 “I’m glad you can finally admit that something’s wrong,” Caiside said wryly.  “And - well - I’m sorry that this happened.”  She shook her head.  “What kind of cowardly fifth years would attack a second year?”

 

 “It wasn’t quite an attack -”

 

Caiside glared at him.  “It was cowardly.”

 

Callidus shrugged.  “I suppose.”

 

Caiside straightened.  “Now I just have to send a letter to Hermione and Ginny.”

 

 “Hermione lives with muggles,” Callidus reminded her, still feeling reluctant to involve all the Gryffindor girls.

 

 “Oh, we’ll figure out all the details later.  I’ll owl Ginny first.  Her family knows  _ all about _ muggles!  Or at least Ginny’s dad does.”

  
Callidus’s shoulders slump as he resigned himself to the fact that there would be no dissuading Caiside (nor any of the other Gryffindors once they realized that there was a problem.)  And yet, at the same time, there was a small measure of relief.  He hated the idea that there was something wrong with him, and it was bad enough to have had to even admit it.  At least with the girls on his side, he wasn’t alone in this.


	26. Chapter 26

Being away from the sheltered atmosphere of Hogwarts and seeing Diagon Alley was giving Callidus a sense of just how bad the situation was due to the Orange Madness.  It was one thing when it was just articles in the news that the students could discuss at the breakfast table.  But being in a wizarding community, and seeing the empty streets as people preferred to stay inside, away from all strangers, made Callidus fully aware of just how deep the fear and suspicion ran.  It also made him aware of just how frail society could be; a disease could so easily break down social norms and bonds.

 

He was sitting at the breakfast table, more preoccupied with the plans of what he would be doing in Madam Filodoxos’ potion lab, than the food on his plate.  Caiside was sleeping in, but even if she had been here, neither of them would discuss Callidus’s problems, and Caiside didn’t like to talk about her friends, her lessons, or anything personal in front of her mother.

 

Madam Filodoxos was reading the  _ Daily Prophet _ , and she seemed even more engrossed in the newspaper than usual.  She kept distracting Callidus from his thoughts, by saying things like: “Quite right!” and “It’s about time!”  Callidus’s brows drew together.

 

 “May I see the paper when you’re finished with it?” Callidus politely asked.

 

Madam Filodoxos looked over at him from behind the pages, and gave him a warm smile.  “Of course!  It’s so good to see young people engaged in the world around them.  Caiside could learn something from you.”

 

Callidus didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.  He was nearly finished his breakfast (and no longer thinking about the lab), when Madam Filodoxos finally handed over the paper.  

 

 “Thank you,” he murmured, before looking over the headlines.  On the first page, there was a story about how one of the first victims of the Orange Madness was taking a turn for the worse.  Being in a coma, magical or not, took a toll on one’s health, and the victim’s family was frantic with worry.  It made Callidus feel cold, thinking about how there were students his age, struck down by the mysterious disease.  There were no fatalities yet.  Would there be, soon?

 

But Callidus knew that the front page article wasn’t the one that Madam Filodoxos was commenting on.  And he couldn’t ask her, since Madam Filodoxos had already left the table.  He opened to the second page, and another headline caught his eye.  He brought the page closer as he read the article.  It was about a new bill that the Wizengamot would soon be voting on.  A memory tugged at his mind of Draco mentioning something like this long ago, but Draco hadn’t said anything since.  Of course, Callidus knew Draco didn’t really care about politics - not when there was Quidditch to think about.

 

The surprise of seeing the proposed bill unsettled him.  It had felt wrong when Draco brought it up, and it felt wrong now, despite the fact that the Orange Madness only seemed to be getting worse.  But to Callidus’s disgust, some tiny part of him did wonder: would it keep everyone safe?  He shook his head.  He wasn’t that sort of person, that valued safety so much that it justified stealing away other people’s freedoms and rights.  And yet, what would he do if people he cared about were struck by the disease?  Draco had said that he’d kill anyone who tried to hurt Callidus and Harry.  And Callidus had said that he’d immediately immobilize them.  Didn’t this new bill, about a muggleborn registry, effectively immobilize people?

 

 “What’s with that scowl on your face?” Caiside’s voice croaked.

 

Callidus looked up from the paper, and saw Caiside taking a seat next to him.  Merlin, didn’t that girl bother to clean herself up in the morning?  Her hair was a mess of tangled curls, and her eyes were still drooping from tiredness.  He blinked and then internally cringed when he realized that he was starting to sound like Draco.  When had that happened?

 

He handed her the newspaper.  “See for yourself.”

 

 “S’too early to read,” Caiside groused.  “It’s the hols - I don’t want to read anything until I go back to Hogwarts!”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows lifted upwards.  “How did you manage to befriend Hermione with that attitude?”

 

 “‘Mione happens to be  _ nice _ , unlike some people.”

 

Callidus kept his eyebrows upraised, silently saying: ‘And?’

 

Callidus made an irritated noise and rolled her eyes.  “I shoulda known that an appeal to decency wouldn’t work on Slytherins.  So what’s the article about?”

 

His brows drew together.  “They’re planning to put a new bill to vote in the upcoming months.  For a muggleborn registry.”

 

Caiside gasped, now more fully awake.  “A muggleborn registry?  No!  They couldn’t - Hermione has been worried about something like this for weeks - months -”

 

Callidus frowned.  “How did Hermione know?”

 

Caiside snorted.  “It’s Hermione.  How d’you think.”

 

 “I didn’t even know about it until Draco mentioned something off-hand.”

 

 “Yeah, and Hermione obsessively reads about history - probably moreso since this whole disease thing.  That and, according to her, Wizarding society doesn’t change as fast as muggle society.”

 

 “So she guessed it.”

 

Caiside nodded.  “It was a - what does she always call it - educated guess.”

 

Callidus compressed his lips into a line.  “How is something like this going to affect her?” He felt a tightness in his chest as he considered the Gryffindor.  He was  _ worried _ .  Was Hermione going to be all right?  

 

Caiside sighed.  “I don’t know.  I really don’t.  Hermione thinks it will be bad.”  She gave Callidus a troubled look.  “She thinks it could affect half-bloods as well.  At least, indirectly.  Something like this registry would make open discrimination acceptable.”

 

Callidus hummed, a contemplative line appearing between his eyebrows.

 

After a stretch of silence, Caiside asked: “What are you thinking?”

 

Callidus looked over at her.  “I’m wondering about what we can do.”

 

Caiside shrugged a shoulder.  “Hermione says to write letters to the politicians.  Though I wonder how seriously they’d take a bunch of first and second years like us.”  With her elbow on the table, she slumped forward, resting her chin on her palm.  “If only this disease were cured.  Then people would stop being so afraid.”

 

 “Yeah,” Callidus quietly agreed. 

 

Despite the absence of Harry and Draco, the holiday seem to fly by.  His motivation to work on his magic-sight potion was stronger than ever, and though he didn’t openly admit it, he couldn’t help but hope that by seeing magic, he’d learn a useful clue about the Orange Madness.  Further fueling his enthusiasm, Madam Filodoxos had an array of rare and expensive ingredients that he had never worked with before.  But despite having the owl-vision potion as a base, Callidus was slow to make any progress.  If anything, all he was doing was making himself dizzy.  Very dizzy.  It probably wasn’t the brightest idea to keep testing the potion on himself, but he always pretested it on rats first, if only to make sure it wasn’t poisonous.

 

The day of the Malfoy fete soon arrived, and though Callidus didn’t look forward to the formal event, he was still excited about seeing his friends.  But no one’s excitement could match Madam Filodoxos.  On top of her new dress robes, she had also gone out to have her hair styled, and had taken advantage of a new beauty potion that seemed to make her eyes more striking, and her skin more dewy.  It was unsettling to see Madam Filodoxos at her most attractive, not because she was objectively beautiful, but because she didn’t look like herself.

 

 “So embarrassing,” Caiside had muttered.  But Callidus couldn’t tell if Caiside was talking about her mother or herself.  Unlike Madam Filodoxos, once she was scrubbed up, Caiside was almost kind of pretty.  Her red-brown hair formed unusually neat looking ringlets, and her dark eyes were bright.  But what prettiness she might have had was marred by the aggravated scowl on her face.

 

Callidus gave her an amused look.  “Excited?”

 

Caiside crossed her arms.  “No.”

 

Callidus chuckled.  “But you look  _ nice _ , all cleaned up.”

 

She gave him a dark glare.  “You’d better shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.  Or -”

 

 “Or?”

 

Her eyes lit up triumphantly.  “Or I’ll hug you!”

 

The very thought made Callidus pale, in part because he was uncomfortable with affection, but also because he still hadn’t fully figured out what the fifth years had done to him, and Caiside’s close proximity was something that would have him clenching his teeth and breaking out into a cold sweat.

 

 “Fine,” Callidus grumbled.  “You  _ don’t _ look nice.”

 

Caiside snorted.  “That’s not what I meant when I said to shut up, but -” she shrugged.  Despite Callidus’s unkind words, she appeared more relaxed.

 

The family flooed over to the Malfoy manor, and Callidus was surprised when they were greeted by a house-elf.  Wasn’t that supposed to be Draco’s job?  He’d have to ask Draco about it.  The house-elf ushered them towards the entrance hall, informing them that most of the guests would be in the ballroom.  Callidus knit his brows.  Most of the adults, probably.  He, Harry and Draco didn’t usually venture into the ballroom during these events.  

 

 “I’m going to find Draco and Harry.  Will you be all right on your own?” Callidus asked Madam Filodoxos and Segnis.

 

But Madam Filodoxos barely heard him, and instead, was staring wide-eyed in awe at all the beautifully dressed guests, as if it were the scene of a dream come true.  “Hm?  Oh.  Oh!  Yes, I’ll be fine Callidus, dear, thank you for asking.  Have fun.”

 

Callidus gave her a worried look.  Would she really be okay?  But then he shrugged.  He glanced over at Caiside, and though she stood straight, the tension was evident in her strained expression and fisted hands.

 

 “Come on, Caiside,” he said with surprising gentleness.  “I’m sure Draco and Harry will be glad to see you.”

 

Caiside’s expression was doubtful, but then she nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly.  Callidus pushed through the crowds, at ease around the purebloods, while Caiside followed close behind, as if afraid of losing sight of him.  He checked the various rooms, and finally found Harry and Draco in one of the other drawing rooms, with a number of other Slytherins, including Parkinson, Zabini, Greengrass and Nott.  

 

 “Cal!” Harry greeted brightly, his face split by a wide grin, as he and Draco made their way towards the door. 

 

 “Finally made it, Callidus,” Draco said from next to Harry, his lips tilted up in a smile.

 

Though Callidus tried to hide it (especially with the other Slytherins watching,) he could barely bite back the smile that pulled at his cheeks and made his eyes crinkle.  He was really, really glad to see his friends.  Time may have passed quickly, but it still felt like  _ ages _ since he last saw Harry and Draco.

 

 “Good to see you as well,” Callidus answered, glad that his voice was at least level.  “I’m surprised that you weren’t greeting the guests.”

 

Draco scoffed.  “I only have to do that if  _ I’m  _ the one hosting the party.  But in this case, it’s my parents.  And they only personally greet the people they think are most important.  If they had to greet  _ everyone _ , they’d be stuck by the door or fireplace all night.”

 

Harry snorted.  “I can imagine your mum being polite enough to do that, but I think that by the end of the night, I’d be scared to be near your dad.”

 

Draco answered with an uncomfortable look, somewhere between amused and disturbed.  “Be glad you’ve never seen my father when he’s mad.”

 

 “So how have you been?” Harry asked Callidus, despite the fact that the trio wrote each other regularly.  “And hi, Caiside.  No one else with you?”

 

Caiside shook her head.  “It’s just me.”

 

Draco scrunched up his face gave Harry a look.  “Ginny might be all right, but anymore Weasleys than that would ruin the whole party.  And Hermione - well -”

 

The group fell into an awkward silence.

 

 “Come sit with us,” Harry urged.  “Have you met everyone else, Caiside?”

 

 “Ah yes, introductions.  I apologize for my poor manners,” Draco added, politely putting on his polished, pureblood mask for Caiside’s sake.

 

After everyone was introduced (and Caiside was readily accepted since she actually  _ was _ a pureblood, even if the Filodoxos weren’t especially ‘important’ ones), the group fell into an easy conversation about their holidays, as well as speculations about the Orange Madness.

 

Eventually, Parkinson declared that she wanted to people-watch for a while, and Zabini, Greengrass and Nott decided to join her.  Only the trio and Caiside remained.

 

Without the other Slytherins pulling at his attention, Callidus finally took a closer look at Harry.  He blinked, and leaned slightly towards his friend.  “Something is different about you -”

 

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Oh,  _ now _ you notice?  Very observant, Callidus.”

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  “Your hair!  It’s - tame!”

 

Harry flushed, and reached a self-conscious hand towards his hair, just as Draco exclaimed: “Ah!  Don’t you  _ dare _ touch it!  Not after I spent  _ hours _ trying to get it to stay down.”

 

Harry winced.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I was  _ there _ , Draco.”

 

Draco harrumphed.  “Well, leave your hair alone.  It finally looks almost decent.  For once.”

 

Callidus grinned and shook his head.  “I don’t envy you,” he told Harry with sympathy.

 

Harry gave him a pained look.  “At least all you need for your hair is one potion and it looks all right.  My hair - uugh - I don’t even want to  _ think _ about my hair.”  He looked over at Caiside.  “I promise we don’t usually talk about hair.  I swear!”

 

Caiside gave him a cheeky grin in reply.  “Right.”

 

 “So what have you done over your break other than working on a potion to try and see magic?” Harry questioned, desperate to change the topic.

 

Callidus lips twitched with amusement, but he decided to be merciful and let Harry direct the conversation away from his hair.  “Not much.  Progress is slow.  And that owl-sight potion does weird things to your vision when you add other ingredients to it.  In one instance, it made everything look - hmm - disturbingly pink.”

 

Harry and Draco snorted.  “Pink?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “Yes.  Suffice to say, I’m glad that I don’t happen to actually have anything in my possession that’s pink.  I’d be glad to never see the colour again.”

 

 “Your potions aren’t the only thing you’ve been working on,” Caiside cut in.

 

Callidus pursed his lips. “Well - there’s homework -”

 

Caiside shook her head.  “What about that other thing?  With the fifth years?”

 

 “Fifth years?” Draco echoed, looking between Callidus and Caiside.

 

Caiside gave Callidus a puzzled look.  “Haven’t you told them about it?”

 

Callidus’s expression turned sullen.  “What’s there to tell?  We haven’t even figured anything out.”

 

 “It takes time - and as you said, Hermione can’t do much when she doesn’t have access to a magical library,” Caiside replied in a reasonable tone.

 

 “What haven’t you figured out?” Harry wondered.  “What are you two talking about?”

 

Callidus sighed heavily.  “I - we -”  he shook his head.  “Do you remember that time I told you that those fifth years cornered me?”

 

Harry and Draco nodded.  “Did something happen?” Harry asked, clearly worried. 

 

 “It’s pathetic that fifth years would attack one of us,” Draco spat out.  “They don’t deserve to be called Slytherins.”

 

 “They didn’t do anything new,” Callidus reassured them.  “But that spell they cast on me.  I think it did more than I thought.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  “You felt the effects of the spell?  What happened?”

 

Callidus drew into himself as he told the story, embarrassed by his own actions, and his own ignorance.  “It has made me react - strangely, to Caiside.  And presumably Hermione and Ginny as well, though I am not entirely certain.”

 

 “Strangely how?” Draco wondered.

 

Callidus couldn’t meet Harry’s and Draco’s eyes.  “It made me feel - uncomfortable around Caiside.  Nauseated.” He glanced over at Caiside.  “Not that I felt disgusted with her.  But -”  he didn’t want to say ‘afraid.’  He didn’t want to admit such a thing.  “Uncomfortable,” he repeated, awkwardly.  “It’s difficult to be near her.”

 

He was afraid for a moment that Caiside would give him away - would say the words he didn’t dare to say.  But clearly, he hadn’t given her enough credit because she stayed silent, respecting the fact that he needed to be the one to tell his friends what had happened.

 

 “That’s weird,” Harry murmured.  “Even after spending the hols with her?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “Even now.  But if I can keep my mind still and calm, it helps.  Doesn’t bother me as much.”

 

Draco’s lips turned downwards.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any sort of magic like that.”

 

 “Why didn’t you mention anything before?” Harry wondered, and although Callidus wasn’t entirely sure, he almost thought that Harry looked hurt.

 

 “To be honest, I didn’t know.”

 

Harry and Draco’s eyes widened.  “You didn’t know?” Harry echoed.

 

Callidus shook his head.  “Even with my reaction to Caiside, I was still -”

 

 “In denial?” Caiside finished.

 

 “Yeah,” Callidus quietly admitted.  “In denial.”

 

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the group was lost in their own thoughts.

 

 “So - you haven’t been able to figure anything out yet?” Harry finally asked.

 

Callidus sighed.  “Unfortunately not.”

 

 “Oh.  Well.  We’ll help you, right Draco?”

 

 “Naturally,” Draco answered.  “We’re not going to let a bunch of spineless fifth years get away with this.  We’ll sort this out.”

 

Callidus gave his friends a grateful look.  But just when he thought that the matter was over with, Caiside piped up. 

 

 “None of you think you should at least tell your Head of House about this?”

 

The trio gave her blank looks.  Harry pursed his lips.  “I can’t imagine Slughorn doing much of anything.”

 

Draco snorted.  “Yeah.  The old Head of House - Snape - he could apparently be counted on, but Slughorn’s old and fat and soft.  He’d probably make things worse.  Besides, this is a Slytherin matter.  We can take care of things.  We have resources.”

 

 “Hmm.  Right,” Caiside answered sceptically, but she didn’t push the matter.

 

The rest of the evening passed quickly.  Callidus asked about Yule celebrations, and Harry and Draco regaled him with tales of the traditional Yule celebration they had had, complete with magical bonfires and evergreens, holiday breads, and all manner of other magical confections that Callidus couldn’t wrap his head around.  He had heard a little about it in his friends’ letters, but clearly, they had left a lot out.  Briefly, he felt an uncomfortable pressure in his chest as he wished he had been there.  

 

Nothing particularly noteworthy happened for the rest of the night, until Draco decided he had better do his duty as a pureblood son, and mingle with the guests.

 

 “We should say ‘hello’ to my parents,” Draco said as he remembered his responsibilities.  “My mother will be upset if you didn’t come by to greet her, Callidus.”

 

Callidus nodded.  He wasn’t comfortable around Lucius, but Narcissa Malfoy had always done her best to make Draco’s friends feel welcome (and he had even received a box of a expensive treats from her for Yule.)  As the four of them made their way past the guests (many of which commented on how  _ handsome  _ and  _ tall _ Draco was growing up to be, while Draco asked about their families or jobs or accomplishments), they finally caught sight of the adult Malfoys, near the staircase of the ballroom.

 

Narcissa spotted them first, and then Lucius, but instead of the polite smiles that Callidus was expecting, they were looking at him with open surprise.  The look perturbed him, and he felt a tight twisting sensation in his guts.  Something was wrong.  And judging by the direction of the Malfoy’s looks, something was wrong  _ with him _ .  But what?

 

Callidus didn’t want to take another step forward, but Draco and Harry were already ahead of him, and the Malfoys had already seen him.  He couldn’t justify turning around and slipping away.  Instead, he resolutely step forward, but to what, he didn’t know.

 

The elder Malfoys had managed to school their reactions into a semblance of polite neutrality, but Callidus was aware of the heaviness of Lucius’s speculative gaze.  What was going on?  Would they say something so he could finally understand what was wrong?

 

As Draco spoke to his parents, it felt like a lifetime was sliding past him.  Narcissa and Draco did most of the speaking, and when Narcissa asked Callidus if he was enjoying the party, Callidus almost failed to answer.  

 

 “It’s lovely,” he eventually said, when Draco elbowed him in the side.  “Better than last year.”

 

 “Thank you, Callidus,” Narcissa answered graciously.  And though Callidus tried to catch some sort of hint in her tone, he couldn’t detect anything out of the usual.  Was he making something out of nothing?  Or were the Malfoys really acting hyper-aware of him?

 

He was relieved when the Malfoys finally waved the group off, with Narcissa telling them to enjoy themselves at the rest of the fete.  And though Callidus wanted to mull over the Malfoy’s strange behaviour, there was no time to think about it with Harry and Draco chattering in his ear.

  
It wasn’t until Callidus was back on the Hogwarts Express (and halfway between London and Hogsmeade) that it finally hit him.  He had forgotten to wear his disguise ring this year.  To the elder Malfoy’s, Callidus’s face would have looked drastically different.  To them, he would have looked like a young Severus Snape.


	27. Chapter 27

Callidus kept expecting that his ruse was up - that at any moment, word would get out about his secret identity.  And yet, after the first few hectic days of classes had passed, nothing happened, and Callidus was slowly able to calm his mental panic.  He didn’t think he was somehow safe.  After all, he was dealing with Slytherin alumni, and Slytherins didn’t just let things slide.  But if the elder Malfoys hadn’t acted immediately, it suggested that they were planning to keep their knowledge of Callidus’s true identity a secret.  It was likely that they would use it against him in the future.  But that was the future - not now.  It mean he had time to plan how he might deal with the situation, if it arose.

 

Unfortunately, free time to simply think wasn’t a luxury that Callidus could afford - on top of school, he was inundated with messages from Hermione about interesting tidbits that might be related to his uncomfortable reaction towards the Gryffindors.  And furthermore, Madam Filodoxos had given him a small sample of a number of rare ingredients that Callidus hadn’t had time to experiment with, when he was experimenting in her lab.  The urgency of the Orange Madness was more immediate than the unveiling of his identity.  There was no shortage of things for him to stress about.

 

But Callidus was glad that he didn’t have to face all his problems on his own.  Harry and Draco were both supportive, with Draco agreeing to look further into the background of the fifth years, while Harry mostly just gave them dirty looks whenever he saw them.  So far, no one (not even the Gryffindors girls) had provided any particularly useful information, but it gave Callidus a warm and fuzzy feeling on the inside that he mostly tried to shove aside, since it was a bit embarrassing.  Growing up with Eileen and Tobias Snape had taught Callidus how harsh the world could be, but his old friend Lily had renewed his sense of hope in the world, and his new friends only strengthened that hope.

 

It was a bit over a week in January and he was in between classes, heading towards the third floor for charms, and tuning out Harry and Draco who were discussing Quidditch, when a small owl flew towards towards him, causing him to duck, rather than get a face full of feathers.  But the little pygmy owl only looped around in the corridor, and Callidus felt something drop on his head.  It wasn’t anything wet (thank Merlin), and when he combed his fingers through his hair, he felt a small folded piece of paper.  It was small enough that Callidus immediately gripped it in his palm, inferring that it was meant to be a secret (though really, how good of a secret was it to send a little owl after him like that?)

 

 “What was that?”  Harry wondered, staring in the direction where the pygmy owl disappeared.  

 

 “Looks like a bad prank to me,” Draco answered, looking unimpressed.

 

Callidus only shrugged.  He decided he’d read the note first before mentioning anything to his friends.  It wasn’t that he was intentionally trying to keep secrets.  It was just a habit.  All Slytherins would have done the same.  Probably.

 

There was no opportunity to read the note in class.  Flitwick had initially had them working on _Finite Incantatem_ , which was used to end other spells, but after the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud, most of the students knew the spell already (it was a matter of practicality.)  So instead, they ended up working on that and the freezing charm.  After all, Flitwick saw no purpose in letting the students sit idle when there were spells to be learned.

 

Callidus finally had a chance to read the note after supper when Harry and Draco had left for Quidditch practice, and he was on his way to his lab to continue his work on modifying the owl-sight potion.  Curiosity had been burning at him all day, and while some part of his mind thought that it was probably nothing, he still impatiently opened the note in the corridors, rather than waiting until he was in the safety of his lab.

 

 _Hi Callidus!_ The note cheerfully began.  He immediately recognized Hermione’s neat scrawl.  

 

 _Caiside, Ginny and I finally found a place where we can meet.  I mean, I know the feud has ended, but with all that’s happened, we all figured it would be safest for_ _you_ _all of us if we just had our own meeting place.  Actually, we found a few places, but I had a feeling that you wouldn’t be pleased if you had to travel from the dungeon all the way to the sixth or seventh floor.  There’s an empty classroom on the fourth floor.  It doesn’t seem to lock, even with spells, but it’s clearly unused, and none of us have seen anyone come this way.  It’s on the northernmost side of the castle.  We’ll be there all day (after classes are done, obviously.)  Harry and Draco have practice today, right?  We haven’t forgotten your schedules.  We hope you can make it!_

 

_Hermione_

 

He thinned his lips as he contemplated what to do.  He really did enjoy working in his lab (though the enjoyment was mingled with a great deal of frustration, since he was failing to make any breakthroughs.)  On the other hand, communicating to the Gryffindors using this awkward, half-secret messaging system was tiring.  He wanted to actually _talk_ to them.  Besides, they might have useful information to impart. Thus decided, he turned on his heels and made his his way through the corridors, up the stairs.  

 

Finding the classroom on the fourth floor was easy enough, and when the Gryffindors heard his footsteps, they came out to greet him.  He could feel his palms getting slick, and his breathing getting ragged, but at least he managed to look calm (or so he thought.)

 

 “You made it,” Caiside smirked, though her gentle tone belied her expression.

 

 “Cal!” Ginny greeted brightly, and Callidus tried not to wince at her use of that particular sobriquet, as well as the fact that Ginny was standing alarmingly close.  He took a step backwards.

 

Ginny seemed obvious to his discomfort, linking her arms around his and tugging him towards the classroom.   “It’s been _aaages_!  Did you get the Chocolate Frogs I sent you for Christmas?  And thanks for that broom polish!  I can’t believe you made it yourself!  It’s better than anything they sell in stores!”

 

Callidus was starting to feel a bit nauseated.

 

 “Hi Callidus,” Hermione said, and unlike Ginny, she seemed to be examining him with concern.  She reached towards Ginny, and gently tried to extricated her from Callidus’s arms. “Ginny, I think he needs space,” she said softly.  Ginny gave Callidus a worried look, but then nodded and released him.  Callidus could have kissed Hermione with gratitude.  Well, not really - that would probably only make him more sick, and frankly, the idea of kissing any of the Gryffindors just seemed bizarre.  But he did appreciate her intelligence and perceptiveness.

 

Hermione turned towards Callidus  “I know I already thanked you for that memory potion you made me for Christmas, but - thanks again.  I tried it and -” she seemed to glow with an inner enthusiasm, “I can’t believe how much easier it became to remember things - especially the minute details that I usually have to reread twice.  It felt utterly effortless!  Magic is amazing.”

 

 “Your welcome,” Callidus answered, feeling his face and ears grow heated.  Unlike Slytherins, Gryffindors were so much more enthusiastic with their gratitude.  It was kind of embarrassing (even if he liked it.)  “Thank you for the book you sent me.  And yes, Ginny, I got the Chocolate Frogs.”

 

Caiside’s smile became smug.  “I even helped him eat a few.”

 

Ginny gave her friend an irritated swat.  “Cass!  Those were for Callidus!”

 

Caiside only shrugged.

 

They filed into the classroom, and Callidus saw that they had pulled up a few chair and desks to the middle of the room.

 

 “It’s not as convenient as the library,” Hermione said sheepishly.  “But it’s private, at least.”

 

Callidus nodded.  The abandoned classroom was certainly spartan, but all the empty classrooms were.  At least this one had a couple of large, leaded glass windows, offering a view of the darkening sky.

 

 “It’s warm,” he remarked.

 

 “It is, isn’t it?” Ginny said brightly.  “So many of the other rooms we searched were _freezing_!  So?  Do you like it?”

 

Caiside rolled her eyes, while Hermione continued to look mildly embarrassed.  But Callidus wasn’t some tactless Gryffindor or Ravenclaw who would say the first thing that came to mind (‘It looks like any other abandoned classroom.’)  Nor was he some gushing Hufflepuff who pour brainlessly enthusiastic praise into the girls’ ears (‘It’s fantastic!’)

 

Instead, he said: “Yeah.”

 

Apparently it was enough.  Ginny beamed brightly, and even Hermione gave him a grateful smile.  Caiside only raised her eyebrows, but it was clear that she was pleased.

 

They sat around the grouped desks, similar to how they positioned themselves in the library, except that Callidus made sure to put more distance between him and the girls than usual.  If they noticed (and from Hermione’s anxiously knit brows and pressed lips, he was sure that at least she noticed), none of them commented.

 

 “Did you get all the messages I sent you?” Hermione asked once they were settled.  

 

Callidus nodded.  “Yes.  Have you learned anything since then?”

 

Hermione shook her head, looking unhappy with herself.  “Not much, I’m afraid.  But I was hoping that being able to speak with you in person would help me catch details I may have missed.”

 

 “There isn’t much to tell,” Callidus admitted.  But seeing Hermione’s beseeching look, he ended up retelling everything he could remember, which wasn’t very much.  Nonetheless, Hermione listened carefully, asking occasional questions, and even taking notes.  It was almost an unsettling amount of attention to receive.

 

 “You don’t _have_ to go to this much effort for me,” he eventually said.  “I’m able to solve my own problems.”

 

 “I know.  You’re one of the smartest wizards I’ve ever met.”  Hermione’s words caused Callidus’s face to heat. “But I _want_ to help.”

 

Callidus couldn’t argue with that.  Instead, he just nodded, hoping his face wasn’t some appalling shade of red.  

 

Since they were so far from the library (and Hermione couldn’t just dash off to get the books she needed), they ended up working on their homework.  That mostly seemed to consist of Caiside and Ginny begging Hermione for help since they had managed to forget all their theory over the break (which Callidus was completely unsurprised by).  He hoped that Hermione was at least going to have her favour repaid, but these were Gryffindors, and Callidus wasn’t exactly optimistic about their good sense.

 

Eventually, the younger girls were all caught up on their assignments, and for Ginny at least, this meant it was time to talk, rather than working ahead on her assignments, like Hermione or Callidus would have preferred.  She spoke of rather trivial things, but then the discussion shifted to talk about the Orange Madness.  Callidus leaned forward in his chair.  

 

 “Did you read that article about the new bill they’re planning to vote on?” he asked Hermione.

 

She nodded, worrying her lower lip.  “It’s just awful.  With all the progress made in the muggle world, you want to believe the same of the wizarding one.  If so many problems can be solved with magic, you’d think that witches and wizards would have the time to solve social problems as well.”

 

 “Most people aren’t willing to put forth the effort to solve more than the most immediate problems,” Callidus answered cynically.  “An alarming number of people even take pleasure in _not_ thinking.”

 

 “Hey!” Caiside exclaimed.  “Sometimes it feels good not to think!  Besides, I _know_ you meditate and that’s the very definition of not thinking!”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes at her.  “The point is -”

 

 “That you think most people are ninnies?” Ginny supplied, eyes dancing with merriment.

 

Callidus frowned.  “You’re not wrong,” he eventually answered.

 

The conversation drifted to other matters, but eventually it returned to the Orange Madness, and soon Ginny and Caiside were yawning, saying that they had to get back to their dorm.  But Callidus and Hermione were too engrossed in the conversation to leave.

 

Hermione absently waved her friends off.  “I’ll join you later.”  

 

Both Hermione and Callidus were completely oblivious to the sly smile on Caiside’s face, as she drawled: “All right.   _Have fun_ , you two.”

 

Callidus looked up towards the doorway when he heard Caiside and Ginny’s giggles, but then shook his head, returning his attention to Hermione.  He was so caught up in the conversation that he didn’t even think about how he had edged closer to Hermione.

 

Instead, he said: “So you’ve actually read the entirety of the proposed bill?”

 

Hermione nodded.  “The memory potion you gave me was still in effect, so I didn’t even have to reread it.”  She furrowed her brows.  “It wasn’t an easy read - they use surprisingly archaic language.  Supposedly it’s a tradition to write laws that way, but honestly!  Some traditions are meant to be broken.  If no one can parse the meaning of the bill, how can the public hope to understand what legislators are doing?”

 

 “I haven’t read the bill,” Callidus admitted, wondering how Hermione could find the time for all the reading she did.  Of course, most people might say the same about Callidus’s potion experimentation.  “What did it say?”

 

Her expression darkened.  “About what you’d expect.  A whole bunch of language about controlling ‘dangerous elements of society’ and the ‘public good.’  And how it will be made a public record.”  She shook her head, bushy hair flying angrily. “A public record!  They plan to register all muggleborns as soon as they’re found.  From the very first time a witch or wizard enters the magical world, they’ll be marked as different.”  Callidus noticed her hands were tight fists, knuckles white.  “Seen as outsiders.  It’s awful!”

 

Callidus nodded in agreement.  A muggleborn registry was a terrible idea.

 

 “Of course, they claim that the registry is only temporary - that it will only be in place until the disease is cured.  But if history is any indication -” Hermione trailed off, looking unhappy.

 

 “The current sentiment of fear doesn’t help either,” Callidus mused.  “It’s never a good idea to make these kinds of decisions without a clear head.  But humans have never impressed me with their rationality.”  He looked over at Hermione, but he could think of nothing to say to reassure her.  His perception of humanity was far more negative than her own, and to Callidus, the future wasn’t looking very bright.

 

 “I’ve been trying to find a way to stop it - or at least stall the vote -” Hermione said softly, her expression distant and troubled.  “I’ve written letter after letter to members of the Wizengamot.  I even wrote to Professor Dumbledore!  He, at least, agrees with me.”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows lifted.  “You wrote to Dumbledore?”

 

She nodded, worrying her lower lip again.  “He says he’s doing everything he can.  But, with running the school, how will he even have the time?”  She looked down at her hands, resting atop her notes.  “I wrote to the _Daily Prophet_ as well.  They have opinion pages, so I thought -” she sighed and shook her head, “- but they just wrote me a thank you letter, and never printed it.”  Her eyes became hard.  “I bet if I were a pureblood, they would have.”

 

A silence settled over them, but Callidus was busy turning Hermione’s words over in his head.  “What if -”  

 

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

 

 “What if we were to use my name?  The Prince name?  It’s - respectable.”

 

Her eyes widened hopefully.  “Truly?  You’d let me write letters in your name?”

 

Callidus nodded decisively.  “Of course.  If you want to accomplish something, you have to learn to use every tool at your disposal.  I’m just - offering you a tool.” The corners of his lips crooked upwards.

 

 “Thank you!” Hermione cried, and to his surprise, she flung her arms around him in a hug.  But just as quickly as it came, she flung herself back as if scalded.

 

 “Ohmygod!” she exclaimed in a quick blur, brown eyes filled with worry, “I forgot - I’m sorry, Callidus!  I didn’t think.  You don’t feel ill or sick do you?”

 

 “I -” he blinked.  He hadn’t even been thinking about that, but now that he remembered, the feeling of sickness returned and he paled.  Nonetheless, he didn’t want Hermione to fret over him needlessly.  “I’m fine.”  Was it just him, or did his voice sound strangled?

 

 “I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated again.  “I -” her cheeks flamed red.  “I’ll try to keep my distance.”

 

The conversation turned awkward and stilted, but after a few questions about the new bill and public opinion, Hermione was back to passionately arguing her beliefs.  They decided that they would meet up again to write a letter to the _Prophet_ together.  After all, as a Slytherin, Callidus had a little bit more experience with the idea of manipulating public perceptions.  It might not be much, but it would be a start, and perhaps they could start some sort of dialogue.  It was better than the one-sided paranoia against muggleborns, all because of a tangentially related disease.

 

Eventually, both of them realized it was nearly curfew, and they said their goodbyes.  As Callidus descended the stairs down towards the dungeon, a smile curved at his lips.  Of all his friends, Hermione was, without question, the most intelligent, and though they did not always have intensive discussions, whenever it happened, it always made him feel _alive_.  As much as the disease troubled him, talking to Hermione gave him a sense of possibility and potential.  It reminded him that if she could do so much on her own, then he too could push himself to make the breakthroughs he needed in potions.  

 

Callidus was so distracted by the thoughts and ideas pinging wildly through his head that he almost missed the sound voices around one of the corners as he neared the dungeons.  

 

But before he rounded the corner, he heard a familiar female voice saying: “Even if I _did_ try and teach you, I doubt you can pick it up, Alphie.  Merlin’s pants, I’ve never met anyone with less aptitude in mind magics than you.  Your brain is as shallow and clear as a puddle.  Seriously.  Not even a bit of mud to obscure anything.”

 

Callidus froze in his steps.  There was no mistaking the voice of the fifth years.  Something tugged at his memory - the familiarity of it.  If he had only spoken to the fifth years that one time in the dungeons, why were the memories of their voices, and why was the name ‘Alphie’ so familiar to him?  He held his breath and listened.

 

 “I’m _trying_!” the boy called Alphie whinged.

 

A male voice sighed.  “Just let it go, Alphie.  You’ve got other strengths.  Just accept that mind magics might be out of your reach.  I mean, you can’t even concentrate on basic meditation, and a meditative state is the foundation of Occlumency.”

 

 “And I don’t actually _need_ Occlumency, do I?” Alphie argued.  “Rosalind said herself that it’s more like Legilimency than Occlumency.”

 

 “You’re _such_ an idiot,” the girl, Rosalind muttered.

 

 “You don’t need one to know the other, true, but the ability to do both is linked,” the boy pointed out.  “Even if you _did_ manage to use Legilimency on someone, you couldn’t make sense of what you were seeing if your own mind wasn’t strong, and a strong mind is best built through a base of Occlumency.”

 

 “I _could_ do it if you just _show me_!” Alphie cried, but his friends just made irritated noises of frustration and doubt.

 

 “Oh just can it!” Rosalind said, the scowl clear in her voice.  “I’m so sick of your begging.  Day after day - I swear!  I don’t know why we’re even friends.” She sighed.  “Besides, I’ve got the energy anyway, and I’ve finally finished McGonagall’s bloody essay, so we can do it tonight.”

 

For some reason, those words caused a sickening dread to crawl down his spine.  Why did it feel like this was related to him?  Why did it feel like there was something he just wasn’t grasping?

 

 “We can?  Yesss!” Alphie crowed, and from the uneven shuffle of his feet, it almost sounded like he was doing some sort of victory dance.

 

 “C’mon,” said another boy’s voice.  “Let’s get out of here.  It’s almost curfew, and the last thing I want is detention.”

 

Callidus’s entire body became rigid when he realized the fifth years were heading his way.  He _knew_ without question that it would be terrible for him if they saw him.  He didn’t know what they’d do, but his instincts screamed fear, danger, and strangely, pain.  His body unfroze, and unable to think up any plan (especially in a long stretch of corridor with few places to duck into), he ran.

 

He heard a male voice behind him saying: “Hey!  Is that -” But Callidus didn’t hear any more beyond that.  All that mattered was the push of his muscles, and pounding of his feet against the floor as he frantically ran back towards the Slytherin common room.

 

When he reached the entranceway to the common room, he tripped over his tongue and had to say the password twice, but thankfully, the wall parted for him, and he all but leapt towards the sofa where his friends sat.  

 

 “Act like I was here the whole time!” he breathlessly said to the wide-eyed second years around him.

 

Harry gave him a puzzled look.  “Erm -”

 

Meanwhile, Draco had raised his wand, and sent a spell towards Callidus that made his face feel like it was being tickled by feathers.

 

 “What was that?” he asked his friend, still out of breath.

 

One corner of Draco’s lips quirked upwards in a wry smile.  “Well, you can hardly look like you were here the whole time if your face is splotchy and red.  I just used a - a skin spell.”

 

 “Beauty spell, you mean!” Parkinson cackled gleefully.  

 

Draco gave Parkinson an irritated glare, while Harry tried to muffle his laughs, and even Callidus felt an amused smile tugging at his lips.  But short moments later, the group of fifth years burst into the common room, and the students looked towards them in surprise.

 

The fifth years looked towards Callidus suspiciously, seeing that he was ensconced on the sofa between his friends, with slightly mussed hair, but a relatively colourless complexion.  Callidus looked away from them.  Under normal circumstances, that was what he’d do, and he sensed more than saw the fifth years shuffling away towards their own corner of the common room.

 

Harry’s voice was both worried and angry when he said: “Did they do something to you?  Because I swear, if they did -”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “No.  No, they didn’t.  I just didn’t want to end up alone with them in a corridor.”

 

Draco nodded.  “Wise.”

 

 “Is something going on?” Parkinson asked, looking from Callidus to the fifth years and back to Callidus.

 

 “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Callidus answered, his tone crossing the line into snappish.

 

Parkinson harrumphed in irritation, but then shrugged as if indifferent, crossing both her arms _and_ her legs, and turning her nose up at him.  “I might not be Harry or Draco, but you _know_ I’m an ally.  Or maybe you don’t.  Whatever.  I don’t care.”

 

Callidus looked up at Parkinson, startled.  “I -” he looked over at Zabini, unsure of what to saw.  But Zabini only arched a dark eyebrow.

 

 “I apologize, Parkinson,” he said stiffly.

 

Parkinson slid her eyes towards him, and after an eternity, she relaxed her stance, shaking her head.  “Oh, just call me Pansy and get it over with, you surly prat.”

 

 “You really know how to endear yourself to someone, don’t you, _Pansy,_ ” Callidus drawled.  

 

An amused smile quirked at her lips.  “There’s a reason everyone here loves me, Callidus.”

 

Callidus raised a brow.  “Because you’ll spill all their deepest darkest secrets if they don’t?”

 

Pansy cackled with glee.  “Sharp.  Very sharp.  So?  Will you tell me what’s going on?”

 

Callidus drew his brows together, thinning his lips.  “To be honest, I don’t entirely know.  That group of fifth years accosted me before the break, but we haven’t had any direct encounters since then.”  Callidus didn’t mind sharing a bit with Pansy, but he didn’t want to share too much.  Especially with the rest of the second years nearby (even if most of them were absorbed in their own conversations.)

 

 “Do you know anything about them?” Callidus asked, hoping that by getting Pansy to talk, she’d forget to ask for more details.  While Draco had said he’d look into the fifth years, the process took time, and there was a chance that Pansy would know something.

 

Pansy’s looked over at the fifth years before returning her attention to Callidus and nodding.  “The girl, Hoyt - I don’t remember her name -”

 

 “Rosalind?” Callidus supplied.

 

Pansy nodded.  “Yes, that’s it.  Rosalind Hoyt.  It’s not a terribly old pureblood family, but they’ve been around a while.  A lot of the Hoyts work for St Mungo’s.  Many of them in the Janus Thickey ward, I believe.”

 

Callidus couldn’t believe the information that Pansy so easily imparted.  That girl, Hoyt, had family members that worked in the Janus Thickey ward of the hospital?  The fact that Hoyt had also mentioned mind magic seemed to tie it all together.  She _had_ done something to his mind, hadn’t she?

 

Pansy continued to tell them what she knew of the other fifth years, but none of the other information seemed pertinent.  By the time that Callidus went to bed that night, he was filled with a greater sense of hope than he had felt in a long time.  It was sheer luck that he had learned so much about the fifth years in one day, and on top of that, perhaps he and Hermione could find some way to sway the wizarding community’s perspective towards muggleborns.  Hermione was a brilliant witch and if anyone could change people’s minds about the merits of muggleborns, it would be her.

  
But as Callidus’s head sunk into his pillow, he recalled Hoyt’s words.  ‘We can do it tonight.’  Do _what_ tonight?  And why was Callidus so sure that it had something to do with him.  He pushed himself up onto his elbows, as one thought became clear in his mind: he was _not_ going to sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started reading books on how to write, and it's driving me a little crazy because now I'm able to articulate what's wrong with my stories (rather than just having a feeling that it's not where I want it). Nonetheless, I'll still finish this story, and try to apply what I learn to the next


	28. Chapter 28

 “Merlin, Cal, you look _terrible_ ,” Harry said, the next morning, despite the fact that his own hair looked like it was on the losing end of a tussle against an electrical outlet.  “Did you even sleep last night?”

 

 “I -”

 

 “Wha’ are you - Whoa, Merlin!  Harry wasn’t joking,” Draco cut in, as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.  “Merlin’s beard, an inferius would look flattering next to you.” He shuddered delicately.  “This is almost too much, this early in the morning.  I’m not sure there are any spells I know that can fix -” he made a general gesture in Callidus’s direction, “that.”

 

 “I -” Callidus began again, feeling like he had a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but his mind felt like it was stuffed full of scratchy wool, and were those bugs crawling all over Draco’s face?  He blinked, and the black dots vanished.  Not bugs after all.  Merlin, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and -

 

 “C’mon, Cal, or we’ll be late for breakfast.”  Harry padded over towards him, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

 

 “Nhhuh -” Callidus groaned.

 

He heard a puff of laughter escape Harry’s lips.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”  Harry examined his face.  “Those fifth years didn’t do anything to you, did they?”  His green eyes narrowed.

 

It took several moments for Callidus to make sense of the words, but eventually, he shook his head.

 

 “Oh.  Good.” Harry’s protection expression slipped into an affectionate grin.  “C’mon.  Get up.  We’ve got a spare block after lunch and you can come back and nap then.  But I don’t think you’ll be happy with yourself if you miss classes.”

 

With another groan, Callidus dragged himself out of bed, wobbling on his feet.  Only the fact that his weight was half-propped against the bed kept him from toppling over.  He made his way towards the shared bathroom and managed to straighten out his hair, though the idea of using the Grease-B-Gone potion felt like far too much work.

 

To his side, he heard Draco muttering something, and he was vaguely aware that Draco’s wand was pointed at him.  Moments later, he felt a refreshing feeling on his skin that reminded him of mint, and then Draco declared: “Better.  At least the sight of your face won’t traumatize the first years now.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes at Draco.  It was too difficult to sort out whether Draco was being an arse, or if Draco was being helpful, so he just remained silent, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

 

 “We had better get down to the Great Hall.  You might have a halfway functioning mind if you, you know, eat something.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry piped up.  “You’re going to scare all our professors if you go to class like that.”  He grinned.  “Considering the fact that we’re Slytherins, they’ll probably assume we spent the night torturing you.”

 

Draco snorted.  “They would, wouldn’t they.  Prejudiced, the whole lot of them.”

 

Callidus didn’t feel hungry, but he was in no state of mind to argue with his friends.  Besides, moving around was making him feel a bit more awake, and he recognized the wisdom of trying to act normal, rather than drifting around like a mindless ghoul.

 

Down in the Great Hall, Callidus’s mind turned all the sounds around him to a blurry hum that was thankfully easy to tune out.  But as he spotted Hermione, Caiside and Ginny at the Gryffindor table, he was reminded that he wanted to tell them something.  Something about - Mind magic!  That’s what it was.  

 

It took him a few seconds to realize that the girls were giving him puzzled and worried looks, and when he felt Harry tugging at his sleeve, he realized that he had probably been staring at them in an awkwardly mindless manner.  Good thing he was too dazed to be embarrassed.

 

Somehow (probably with the help of his friends), he made his way over to the Slytherin table, and managed to force a few bites of food down his throat when the owl post arrived.  A letter swooped down to land on his lap and he flinched.  Peering down at the letter, he missed the funny looks that the other second years were giving him from flinching due to such an ordinary occurrence as receiving a letter.

 

He felt Harry leaning towards him, their shoulders pressing.  “Who is it from?”

 

Callidus held up the letter.  “Wystan.”

 

Harry hummed as Callidus broke the seal to the letter.  Reading was no easy feat in Callidus’s exhausted state.  His eyes followed the lines of script but it took more than one reading for the meaning behind the sentences to sink in.  But it was the last sentence in Wystan’s first paragraph that caught his eyes, and sent a jolt of wakefulness through him.

 

 _Some of what I’m writing to you is, well, not speculation, but not verified fact either_ , Wystan wrote.   _It’s something one of my researcher friends has stumbled upon.  Either way, it might be best if you read this letter when you’re on your own, rather than in the Great Hall, like I’m imagining you doing, with Harry and Draco peeking over your shoulder (not that I don’t trust them.)_

 

Callidus looked to his left, and indeed, Harry was peering down at the words.  Callidus shook his head, lips crooked upwards in amusement.  Nonetheless, he decided to heed Wystan’s advice, and folded up the letter, raising his eyebrows at Harry as he did so, as if daring Harry to comment.  But Harry only mirrored his motions before giving Callidus a grin, and returning his attention to his hearty breakfast with his usual enthusiasm.

 

The day passed by at a crawl, with Callidus barely able to focus on any of his lessons.  He was grateful for both Harry and Draco, who were willing to give him a sharp jab of the elbow whenever his eyes started to glaze over.  It was good fortune that he didn’t lose the Slytherins any House points for carelessness.  He even remembered to send a note off to the Gryffindors about mind magics and the Janus Thickey ward at St Mungos, once he had a much-needed afternoon nap.

 

By the end of the day, had forgotten all about Wystan’s letter.  It wasn’t until the following day, when he felt the crinkled texture of parchment in his pocket, that he remembered.

 

Callidus finally found the opportunity to read the letter in History of Magic.  It wasn’t ideal; after all, it was hardly private.  But both Draco and Harry had dozed off, and anyone who was able to resist the soporific effect of Professor Binns voice were either at the front of the class attempting to take notes, or were preoccupied with their own activities, like whispered gossip, note-passing, or doodling funny little designs on parchment.

 

With a mistrustful glance over his shoulder to ensure his privacy, Callidus pulled out the letter and unfolded it.  He skipped over the greeting.  Somehow, despite the passage of months, Wystan managed to remain just as cloyingly enthusiastic about Calypso as he had months before.  It was about halfway through the letter that he caught a hint of anything that wasn’t Calypso related.

 

_The situation with the Orange Madness has been growing progressively worse.  I’m sure you’ve read about it in the Prophet.  There’s no better time to stoke fears than now (I’m assuming you know about the bill that’s being proposed?  Of course you do.  Silly of me to even ask.)  What are your thoughts on it?  I’m curious to know.  Slytherins who don’t conform often have the most interesting opinions, don’t you think?_

 

_I admit that I’m troubled by it.  Well, of course I would be.  Calypso is a muggleborn.  I shudder to think of what she would have to suffer if the Ministry forced her to register herself, and when I consider the sort of people who would use such information, well, it’s an all-round poor idea.  But for all my connections (even the ones in powerful places), I find my opinion in the minority - at least among pure-bloods.  And, hardly a surprise, it’s either the rich or the pure-blood who hold most of the power in our world.  I’m trying, in my own way, to speak out against it, but it’s rather like shouting in a thunderstorm.  Times like these make me feel rather cynical about the state of our world.  I hate to be such a person._

 

 _But there are other things that hint at greater troubles.  I hesitate to put this to paper.  As it stands, it’s barely a step up from conjecture.  And you can’t tell_ anyone _of this_ (anyone had been underlined for emphasis). _I’d be in a world of trouble for spreading what some would consider an outlandish and dangerous idea.  It’s only that I trust you, and trust your analytical mind, and your unique perceptions, that I mention this to you.  From the moment we met, I had a good feeling about you, and my sense of people has never really led me astray (I may be bragging a bit here)._

 

_I’ve mentioned before that my advocacy group, FLAME, has put me in touch with a wide network of connections, and that we have researchers exploring ideas that magical society hesitates to explore.  One of the teams connected to us has learned something disturbing.  We’ve yet to do repeat tests to prove that it’s true (and I’ve a feeling that some of us feel it’s better to let this alone.)  We may have stumbled upon something greater than ourselves._

 

_Bear in mind that this isn’t a firm fact.  But we have reason to believe that the Orange Madness may not be a natural disease - that it may have been created.  If this is true, the implications are horrifying._

 

Callidus paused his reading, his mind racing with questions.  Who?  And Why?  Could it be true?  It seemed like a conspiracy - a cruel one - but who had the most to gain from it?  The immediate answer was purebloods, but his mind shied away from the thought of painting purebloods with the same broad stroke.  If he had learned anything from being a Slytherin, it was that purebloods were, in many ways, just like everyone else, with the same ordinary and everyday concerns and desires.  Only a naive Gryffindor would believe that pureblood Slytherins spent their days plotting the downfall of muggleborns and their ilk.  

 

But then, what about people like the elder Malfoy?  People who write up bills in order to limit the rights of muggleborns?  Callidus shivered.

 

He scanned over the rest of the letter.  But aside from offering more details about his work at FLAME, Wystan had provided no more information.  It was frustrating.  Callidus wanted _details_.  But he could understand why Wystan would be uncomfortable relaying such details in a letter.

 

With a sigh, he folded up his letter, and set it aside with all his other letters from Wystan.  (It wasn’t that Callidus was sentimental; but Wystan often offered interesting facts and tidbits in his letters that Callidus wanted to remember.)  As interesting as the information was, he hoped it wasn’t true.  He hoped there weren’t people out there calloused and cruel enough to inflict a disease upon others, because as much as Callidus acted as though he believed the worst in people, this was a new and despicable low.  

 

Wystan’s speculations soon proved to be impossible to chase from Callidus’s mind.  He worried at it, his thoughts flowing over rough edges like water over stones.  But he couldn’t bring himself to share the information with his friends.  It felt too much like a Pandora’s box, and like Wystan, it was something he dared not let loose.

 

He watched the people around him, realizing that while it was unlikely that they might have anything to do with the disease, they might know someone who knew something.  The wizarding world was certainly small enough that that was more than probable.

 

At the trio’s next ARMED meeting, the idea, like a veil across his eyes, had suffused Callidus’s perception to the point that he found himself paying far closer attention to Rowle’s words than usual.  Merlin, was she ever hateful.  Of course, Rowle was careful to couch her words in terms that, on the surface, made her seem moderate; kind, even.  But it was as if she carefully chose her phrases with the very purpose of inciting the others, of flaming their hate.

 

 “I’m sure the muggleborns don’t intend anything,” Rowle was saying, as the older students grumbled about the Orange Madness, prior to the start of the actual meeting.  

 

 “They don’t even _have_ to intend anything for their terrible presence to harm us!” one of the boys growled.  “Their very existence is a threat.  A terrible, terrible threat.”

 

 “And yet, I’m sure they don’t realize it,” Rowle said, falsely placating.

 

 “That just makes it worse!” a seventh year girl cried.  “They’re like - like sick plague beasts, carrying their horrible infections wherever they go!”

 

 “I imagine they don’t want to be thought of as beasts,” Rowle mused.

 

Next to him, Callidus heard Harry make a low and angry sound.  He glanced over at his friend, whose jaw was clenched tight, and whose temple seemed to throb.  

 

 “They probably think that they are just like everyone else,” Rowle finished.  “How could they know any better, or see any different?”

 

Callidus wondered how it was possible for a person to be so condescending.  He could imagine a person like Rowle wanting to create a disease for the purpose of wiping out muggleborns.  He could easily see how someone like her would think that what she was doing was ‘for their own good,’ that she was somehow helping to strengthen and better the wizarding world.  But at the same time, Rowle also struck him a being more cunning than bright.  Callidus couldn’t envision Rowle as a person with the theoretical knowledge to make a disease that predominantly affected muggleborns.  But he could imagine her knowing people who might.  Narrowing his eyes, he decided to take note of Rowle’s connections.  It could prove to be important.

 

His thoughts gave him the means to decouple his feelings from the situation.  His thoughts were more plans than mere thoughts.  But as Callidus glanced over at Harry once again, it was clear that Harry wasn’t distancing himself from the scene before them.  If he didn’t know Harry - if he didn’t realize that Harry had one of the most generous and kind hearts in all of Slytherin - Callidus would have described the look in Harry’s eyes as being murderous.  It made his hairs stand on end.

 

He lightly elbowed Harry’s side, causing Harry to start, and turn his bright green eyes upon Callidus, brows drawn and expression still dark.  Callidus didn’t know what to say to diffuse Harry’s anger.  Words like: ‘don’t take her seriously’ sounded trite.  Instead, he looked over at Rowle, before looking back at Harry and rolled his eyes.  

 

Harry stiffened, but moments later, the tension in his muscles uncoiled, and he gave Callidus a half-hearted smile.

 

 “She’s never going to see her humiliation coming,” Harry said, soft enough that only Callidus could hear.  Callidus nodded in agreement, though it was more from relief that Harry was only planning humiliation and not anything more brutal and final, as his face had earlier suggested.  He felt a twinge of guilt.  He hadn’t been helping Harry with any plans to prank Rowle - there were other, more pressing issues that demanded his attention - but he could at least show his support.

 

Once everyone was gathered, the ARMED meeting finally began.  The meetings had been increasingly challenging in December before their break.  The Forbidden Forest was dangerous enough, and the weather harsh enough that the trio hadn’t had any opportunities to practice the new magics they were learning in their meetings.  With every new meeting, they felt as though they were falling behind, as though each new topic was a wave of information coming so fast that comprehension was being drowned.

 

But their Christmas break had offered them a much-needed respite.  Though under-aged witches and wizards technically weren’t permitted to practice magic outside of school, they all stayed in magical homes, and were free to practice to their heart’s content.  This meant that they finally had a chance to try out the multitude of spells that had been offered to them in ARMED meetings.  Which further meant that when they returned to Hogwarts, they finally felt prepared to face the storm of information that Rowle threw at them.

 

At the end of their meeting, Harry’s words mirrored his thoughts.  “As much as I hate Rowle, ARMED meetings have been a lot more fun lately.”

 

 “When are we finally going to find this supposed secret chamber of yours?” Draco demanded.  “It’s intolerable to think that a Malfoy would be disadvantaged in anyway, and not being able to practice our spells in secret, well -” Draco scowled, as though not daring to put to words the idea of a Malfoy actually being disadvantaged.

 

Harry glanced upwards and chewed at his lip.  “Well, we’re almost finished searching the entire first floor.  We can start looking on the second floor soon.  But -” he knit his brows.

 

 “But?” Callidus prodded.

 

Harry shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I -” he paused to sort out his thoughts.  “For some reason, I can’t shake the idea that the secret chamber is below ground.  I was _so_ sure that we’d find the entrance in either the basement or first floor.  The higher we search, the more I start to -” he pursed his lips.

 

 “You’re not having doubts now, are you, Harry?” Draco asked, dismayed.  “After all the time we spent searching because you were so sure?”

 

Harry stopped in his steps, and both Callidus and Draco turned to look at him, trying to read the many expressions that flitted across Harry’s face.  In the end, a look of resolve seemed to win the emotional battle.

 

 “I’m _sure_ it’s there,” Harry affirmed.  “It _has_ to be.”

 

-o-

 

The weeks of January flew by with a hazy indistinctness that came from having too many things to do, and too little time to do them.  Callidus had told his Gryffindor friends about the link between Rosalind Hoyt, the Janus Thickey ward, and mind magic, which had caused Hermione’s eyes to alight with an intense and unbridled fascination.  It had almost been amusing, watching the way she made lightning fast connections in her brain, as well as the moment she realized she was being insensitive, and attempted to shutter her enthusiasm, as if it would spare Callidus’s feelings.  Instead of being upset, he had just smirked at her, and made a gibe about the sorting hat’s mistake of putting her in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.  And though Hermione still hadn’t found any answers, she agreed that Callidus should diligently practice his meditations.

 

He was also slowly working through the ingredients that Madam Filodoxos had given him, but his owl-sight experimentations only served to make him dizzy, or worse, disoriented and nauseated (and on one occasion he blacked out for a span of ten minutes, but thankfully he had been alone in his lab and no one had witnessed his embarrassment).  The situation of the Orange Madness, the sense of urgency he felt about the new bill, the fear in people’s eyes - all these things only served to drive his impatience, and push his risk tolerance.  Callidus knew he wasn’t necessarily making good decisions, but it was hard to stop himself.  He felt like he had accomplished more with himself last year than he had thus far this year.  Shouldn’t he have been making progress?  Pushing the limits of knowledge?  Yes, he had figured out how to effectively vapourize potions, but that hadn’t actually been an original idea; it simply an idea that other researchers had abandoned, which he willingly picked up.  Callidus’s passion for potions remained strong, but he was disheartened.

 

It was already mid-month.  Callidus and Harry were walking through the long corridor that led towards the west tower of the Owlery, absent Draco, as usual.  For reasons that Callidus had yet to understand, Draco seemed to have an aversion to walking beyond those steps that were necessary to get from here to there.  It wasn’t that Draco was lazy.  Callidus’s brows formed a furrow, and he decided that nevermind, Draco _was_ rather lazy.  If Draco could have replaced all the chairs and desks in the school with sofas, then he’d likely spend his days in contented indolence.  If it was considered socially acceptable to traverse the halls on his broom, then Draco would have done so.  A smile curled his lips.

 

 “What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, as though sensing that some amusement was being kept from him.

 

 “Draco’s laziness,” Callidus answered.

 

Harry grinned.  “Well, he sees his owl all the time in the Great Hall.  He hasn’t got a reason to go to the Owlery.  Besides, I think he said he wanted to visit Norberta.  I think it makes him a bit cross that we don’t love her as much as he does.  But unlike Norberta, at least Hedwig isn’t liable to burn me to a crisp.   _And_ , Hedwig actually lets me _touch_ her.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “Vanity, Harry.  Draco is vain.  His name means ‘dragon.’  Norberta is a dragon.  And by the miracle of Draco’s enormous ego alone, he has successfully manipulated his own love for himself into some sort of narcissistic affection for the dragon.”

 

Harry’s lips twitched upwards and he rolled his eyes.  “Or maybe, Draco just loves dragons.”

 

Callidus said.  “As I said.  Self love.  You’ve seen the way he gazes at himself in the mirror.  Can you deny it?”

 

  “Yeah, but that’s just Draco.” Harry shrugged cheerfully.  “It’s who he is.  And besides, I _know_ you don’t actually dislike Draco for it.”

 

Callidus didn’t answer.  He wasn’t about to openly admit that Draco’s quirks were endearing.  Callidus didn’t find things endearing.  Just tolerable.  Or so he told himself.

 

After a turning a corner, and climbing up a flight of stairs, Harry said: “I do wish that Draco would think of nicer pranks.”

 

Callidus arched his brows.  He had heard Harry and Draco bickering, but months upon months of practice had enabled him to perfect the useful art of tuning them out.

 

 “People are scared and anxious because of the Orange Madness,” Harry continued.  “How is it going to make anyone feel any better to erupt in hair, or be bitten by their course books, or - or have their eyes fall out?”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows shot up.  “Eyes fall out.”

 

Harry huffed.  “Draco said it wouldn’t be painful.  Their eyes would just dangle for a while and then after a time, pop back in.”

 

 “Everything I hear just makes it sound worse.  Does Draco have some unspoken desire to be expelled?”

 

 “I don’t know!” Harry cried.  “He almost made it sound funny when he described it.  But when you put it like that -” he trailed off, worrying at his lower lip.

 

 “Draco’s upbringing makes it hard for him to see things from others’ perspectives,” Callidus said, just as they stepped into the Owlery, his nose wrinkling at the familiar earthy odour, and the feeling of bird dust on his skin.

 

Harry called for Hedwig, as Callidus pulled out a reply to Wystan’s letter to give to one of the school owls.  Wystan had been persistently tight-lipped about revealing more details regarding the possible man-made nature of the Orange Madness, but Callidus still enjoyed corresponding with him.  Despite the gap in their years, Wystan never treated him as anything less than an equal, and Wystan offered an interesting insider perspective on the outside world.  Beyond that, Wystan was one of the few people who could patiently listen as Callidus ranted about his potions progress (or lack thereof.)

 

 “So, no ideas for our next prank?” Callidus asked, once the school owl had departed, letter firmly secured.

 

Harry looked up at Callidus, his hand pausing from scratching Hedwig’s head, before starting again when she insistently butted at his fingers.  “I don’t lack ideas,” he eventually said.  “But having an idea, and having an idea that’s _doable_ isn’t the same thing.”

 

Callidus nodded sympathetically.  

 

 “I mean, I was thinking -” Harry abruptly cut himself off, freezing like a victim petrified by a gorgon.

 

Worried, Callidus took a step towards his friend.  “Harry?”

 

Harry blinked.  “It worked!”

 

Brows knitted, Callidus asked: “What worked?”

 

 “A spell I found over the break when I was looking through the Malfoy library.”

 

 “You willingly spent your break in a library?”

 

Harry scowled good-naturedly.  “I don’t mind books.  I just prefer _interesting_ ones.  Ones that are useful for pranking.”

 

Callidus’s lips tilted in an amused smile.  “Ah.  Of course.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “ _Anyway_.  I found an old an obscure spell called Spider Ears.”  He paused.  “Did you know that spiders don’t actually have ears?  They hear using the vibration of the hairs on their bodies.”

 

 “That’s a - very Hermione-like tangent.”

 

Harry grinned, taking the remark like a compliment.  “It’s true!  Anyway, I can sorta understand why the spell isn’t very popular.  Spiders’ sense of hearing is like trying to listen to a conversation in another room by pressing your ears against a wall.  Gives you a bit of a headache.  But it seemed like a useful spell.”

 

 “Has Draco been using the spell as well?” Callidus asked.  Just how much knowledge did Harry have squirreled away behind that guileless smile?

 

A shadow of uncertainty crossed Harry’s face.  “He - erm - doesn’t know.”

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  “You haven’t told him?”  Though it was a wise choice (Draco couldn’t help gleefully trying to abuse power, whenever he had the opportunity), Callidus hadn’t thought Harry would be the sort to keep secrets.

 

Harry shook his head, lips pursed miserably.  Callidus decided not to push him.  He trusted Harry.  Trusted Harry’s intentions.

 

 “So.  I’m guessing you used the Spider Ears spell.”

 

The cloudiness of Harry’s expression cleared and Harry nodded.  “Yeah.  Actually, it was to help you.”

 

 “What do you mean?”

 

 “It wasn’t easy - you can’t just order a spider to go where you want, or listen to what you tell it to.  Spider’s just - erm - do their spider thing.  Make webs.  Eat bugs.”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows lifted as he patiently waited for Harry to meander around to the point.

 

 “So I’ve been fiddling around with the spell since I found it in December,” Harry continued.  “You know, people are actually really quite boring.  They spend far too much time talking about due dates.  Anyway, I had to use two spells in the end.  One to be able to hear what spiders hear.  And the other to identify my targets.”  Harry’s eye’s met Callidus’s.  “The fifth years were my targets.  The ones that have been bothering you.”

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  “You’ve been listening in on their conversations?  Have you - What have you learned?”

 

Harry gave him a rueful smile.  “First, that Rosalind girl is _really_ bossy.  And that Alphie person is really creepy.   _Really_.  Creepy.”  An exaggerated shudder coursed through Harry’s body.  “But honestly, most of the time they talk about school, or gossip about other fifth years.  And whinge about McGonagall.  I don’t think any of them are much good at Transfigurations.”

 

 “So, they haven’t said anything about me?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “Not really.  Though -” his brows wrinkled, “that Alphie person is always asking the Rosalind girl ‘when are we going to do it?’  I’m not sure what he means by ‘it.’  It doesn’t sound like - erm - girlfriend boyfriend stuff, since he usually asks the question when the four of them are together.”

 

Callidus furrowed his brows.

 

 “Anyway,” Harry continued, “the spell activated just then.  It took ages to figure out how to get it to activate to the voices of those fifth years.  And they said something.  Maybe it means nothing. But -”

 

“But?”

 

Harry’s eyes met Callidus.  “They said something about ‘doing it.’  Tonight.”

 

Callidus’s inhaled sharply, a burst of anxiety causing his guts to lurch.  It took him a moment to realize Harry’s intent expression on his face.

 

 “Cal.  That day a week or so ago, when you were really tired.  Were you staying up all night?”

 

Callidus looked away, and nodded.  

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  “So -”

 

 “They didn’t do anything to me,” Callidus interrupted.  “But I suspected they might, so I didn’t sleep.”

 

Harry paused to turn the words over in his mind.  “So, do you dream about them or something?  Or are they doing something to you in your sleep.”

 

Callidus exhaled.  “That’s the odd thing.  I’ve never dreamed about them.  I don’t know what they’ve done to me.  Aside from the connection to mind magics, I haven’t been able to make sense of anything.  I didn’t even realize I was avoiding Hermione and that lot until Caiside confronted me about it.”  He shook his head, frustrated with himself.

 

A few moments later, Harry said: “I think I’ve heard them reference dreams before.  But they didn’t say anything very meaningful, so it might not have been related.  I’m sorry, Cal.”

 

Callidus shook his head.  “Don’t be.  If anything -” his eyes met his friend’s, “Thank you.  You’ve done far more than I would have expected.”

 

Harry only rolled his eyes, smiling now.  “You act like you’re _surprised_ that I’m making an effort to be a good friend.”

 

Callidus shrugged, now smiling as well.  “You have to admit, you’re not the most Slytherin Slytherin in our House.”

 

 “Maybe it just means that I’m full of unseen depths?” Harry suggested impishly.

  
Callidus paused before answering.  Harry may have given the impression of artlessness, but as a friend and brother, Callidus knew that Harry had depths that even he didn’t understand.  With a smile, he said: “Maybe.”


	29. Chapter 29

 “I know I’ve said this before, but I just  _ can’t believe _ how limited the information on mind magics is,” Hermione huffed, her hand banging down on the table to emphasize her frustration.  The noise was startling loud in the empty classroom where they studied.

 

Callidus, lifted his eyes from his homework to look at her, while Caiside and Ginny paused in their discussion about the merits of Poisonous Pussywillows as pet plants (with Caiside arguing that the purr of the plants was adorable, while Ginny adamantly affirmed that keeping poisonous things as pets/decorations was a horrible disaster in the making, especially if one was plagued by six too many brothers.)

 

 “Did you know that Hogwarts has one - One! - book on mind magic - Occlumency, to be specific,” Hermione ranted, “and it can only be found in the restricted section?  I had Madam Pince check  _ twice _ .”  Her head shook as if in disbelief.  “Honestly!  Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to have the best library in  _ all of Britain _ ?  The idea that there are books out there that I can’t read -” she appeared to almost quiver at the horrid possibility.  “And when I made an inquiry to the Janus Thickey ward at St Mungos, they said that their methods are kept confidential because of the potential for abuse of power.”

 

Callidus tensed.  He knew Hermione meant well, that she was trying to help, but it unsettled him, to think of the fifth years having some sort of mysterious power to abuse in the first place.  Especially a power related to mind magic.  Callidus was becoming very adept at meditative practices.  His efforts to learn to sense magic helped to hone his self-discipline, and Callidus could clear his mind with almost the same ease as a fish could swim.  But meditation was not Occlumency.  And Hermione’s diatribe was suggesting that it would be an immense challenge to learn Occlumency on his own.

 

Meditation wasn’t even a fool-proof defense.  Callidus still felt his skin crawl when he was near the Gryffindors.  But meditation was like a dial that dimmed the intensity of his discomfort to tolerable levels.  And if Callidus was preoccupied (such as during moments when he was engrossed with a book, or an interesting assignment), the presence of the Gryffindors didn’t seem to trouble him at all.

 

But Callidus suspected that there was one thing that helped more than anything: Harry’s warnings about the fifth year’s plans to ‘do it tonight,’ whatever ‘doing it’ meant.  Unfortunately for Callidus, this mean disrupting his sleep, and though it wasn’t something he did daily, to have to do it even once a fortnight strained his mind and body.  At least he got a great deal of reading done on those nights.

 

 “Am I to guess from your tirade that you haven’t learned anything?” Callidus asked. 

 

Irritation was written all over Hermione’s glare.  

 

Callidus shrugged. “I haven’t been able to learn anything either.”  Even in ARMED, no one had brought any books related to mind magics.  The field was far too obscure, too dangerous and too well-guarded.

 

Hermione seemed to deflate at that.

 

 “Who would have thought,” Caiside interjected.  “Two of the brightest minds unable to come up with any information.”

 

Ginny elbowed her.  “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that if you have nothing helpful to say, then you shouldn’t say anything at all?”

 

Caiside’s head tilted to the side as she looked upwards, a caricature of contemplativeness.  “Yes.  I believe my mum has said something of that nature a few hundred times.  Right after saying something insulting about muggles or muggleborns.”

 

Ginny snorted.  “Your mum is like some sort of topsy-turvy version of my mum.”

 

 “Really?” Caiside asked.  “Which parts?  She seemed nice when I met her at King’s Cross.”

 

Callidus shook his head, uninterested in the inanities of the first years’ conversation.  He turned his attention back to Hermione.  “I may be able to get a pass into the restricted section.”

 

Hermione straightened.  “You can?  How?”  Callidus couldn’t tell if she was more excited or jealous.  He suspected an even mix of both.

 

 “Slughorn,” he answered, knowing that smugness was seeping into his tone.  “Since I’m doing advanced projects in potions, I often have to access materials that are not available in the main library.”

 

Jealousy seemed to be winning the war on Hermione’s emotions.  “It’s unfair that you would receive advanced projects in potions.  For those with the aptitude, there should be advanced classes so that others might receive the benefits of advanced learning.”

 

 “Be more of a Slytherin then,” Callidus advised, suddenly sympathetic.  Though he preferred to keep his academic advantages a secret, Hermione was his friend.  If anyone deserved it would be her.  “Sluggy likes to be buttered up.  Flatter him and I’m sure you can get all the advanced projects you want.”

 

Her lips formed a thin line.  “That isn’t right!  Advanced projects shouldn’t be  _ favours _ !”

 

 “It’s no different in the real world.”

 

 “How can you Slytherins be so accepting of a system that perpetuates unfairness?  In fact, how can you be so willing to perpetuate unfairness yourself!”

 

Callidus’s eyes narrowed.  “And how can you be so blindly self-righteous as to assume the Gryffindor way is best?  To rush forward into situations without understanding the subtleties and intricacies of the relationships, the histories and the people?  To masquerade your disrespect as chivalry and virtue?”

 

 “That’s not -”

 

 “Hey!” Caiside cut in, surveying each of them with bewilderment.  “Are you two - I mean  _ you two _  -” (she pointed at them for emphasis), “really doing the Gryffindor versus Slytherin thing?”

 

 “We were not!” Hermione huffed.

 

Callidus scowled.  “I was merely attempting to be helpful.   _ She _ took offense to it.”

 

 “Helpful?” Hermione echoed.  “By using methods that are little better than - than -”

 

 “Stop!” Caiside cried. “Your squabbling is upsetting Ginny.”

 

 “I’m not upset,” Ginny said.

 

Caiside elbowed her.

 

 “Ouch!  I mean, I’m terribly upset.  I don’t know how I’ll sleep at night,” Ginny corrected, her expression woeful.

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “Your attempts at manipulation are so puerile that I’m nearly insulted.”

 

 “I wasn’t trying to be manipulative,” Caiside argued.  “Just trying to distract you pair of flobberworms.  Which was quite effective (thank you Ginny).  Callidus.  I know you ordinarily look like you were regurgitated by a ghost, but tell me this.  When was the last time you had a decent sleep?”

 

Callidus scowled.  “I have many pressing matters on my mind.” (That and he had fifth years to avoid.)

 

Caiside gave him a self-satisfied smile.  “And Hermione?  When was the last time  _ you _ had a decent sleep?”

 

 “Well, honestly, there’s just so much I have to do.  How is anyone supposed to find the time -”

 

 “Well there you go!” Caiside declared.  “Bickering like a pair of - of -”

 

 “Siblings?” Ginny supplied.

 

 “Siblings, when all you really needed was sleep,” Caiside concluded.

 

 “I’m still insulted,” Callidus growled.

 

Hermione sighed.  “Cass is right.”  She shook her head.  “If neither of us is sleeping well, we’re not going to be thinking straight.  I’m sorry for snapping, Callidus.”

 

Callidus frowned.  He still wanted to argue with Caiside.  How in the world did a first year Gryffindor manage to master such a sickeningly patronizing expression?  But somehow, despite claiming not to be manipulating them, Caiside had driven Callidus into a corner where he had no option but to apologize, or appear to be a callow lout.

 

 “I apologize as well,” he said stiffly.

 

Caiside grinned toothily.  “And now, it’s time to -”

 

 “Kiss?” Ginny suggested.

 

 “Well, I was going to say practice meditation -” Caiside said, trying to repress her laughter, while Hermione blushed hot with mortification.

 

 “You two are insufferable,” Callidus said, meaning it.  He hadn’t  _ seriously _ ever considered kissing anyone, not when potions were so much more interesting, so he wasn’t particularly embarrassed.  But he it did make him question his judgement in spending time with such patently immature girls.  He was disappointed that they had made no headway in the particulars of mind magic.  Perhaps it would make more sense to work on his own for a while, or at least redouble his efforts in unlocking the magic-sight potion.

 

After a brief but intensive meditation session with Hermione, he stood and nodded his goodbyes to the girls.  But as he slung his satchel over his shoulder and turned to leave, he felt a tug on his robe, and looked back with surprise.  It was Hermione.

 

 “We’ll figure it out,” she assured him.  “No matter what, I’m going to keep looking until I find what we need.”

 

Callidus nodded, giving her a weak smile.  He didn’t have the same boundless optimism as the Gryffindors.  But it helped to know that he had their persistent determination on his side.

 

Potions lab nine used to be one of Callidus’s favourite places in Hogwarts.  It still was, but his recent experiences in the lab had been more frustrating and fruitless than enlightening.  Was it even possible to create a potion that would make magic clearly visible?  Surely it was.  Surely he hadn’t come against one of the impossibilities of magic.  But he realized that the owl-sight spell that he was modifying wasn’t even a true potion.  It was more of a ritual than anything, with minor elements of potion making.

 

It did little to help his sense of confidence.  Callidus was patient compared to the vast majority of his peers, but it wasn’t the mature patience of an adult, who knew the reality of how sometimes failure was simply just an inevitability of life, and sometimes it was better to move on.  Callidus couldn’t move on.  He was far too invested.  It was, perhaps irrational, but he had been seized by the idea of somehow contributing to the solution of the Orange Madness, and now, it felt impossible to let the idea go.

 

Despite his frustrations, despite the agitation that shook up his nerves, Callidus moved with a steady collectedness as he set down his satchel and began to prepare his workspace.  Pulling up his notes, he recorded:  _ Variation #47 _ , listing the alterations he planned to make to this particular batch.  With a heavy sigh, he pulled out the materials he needed and began to brew.

 

Brewing potions was generally a pleasurable process for Callidus.  The mysterious and methodical nature of the process was fascinating and rewarding, a heady mix of science and poetry.  But the same couldn’t be said for brewing essentially the same brew forty-six times.  At this point, Callidus could almost do it with his eye closed, and in his more sardonic moments, he wondered if perhaps that was the key to the whole process after all.  Wouldn’t that just be a cruel little twist.  

 

While it was true that sometimes the batches yielded interesting reactions, like dramatic colour changes or whorls of smoke, more often than not, that just meant that the owl-sight ritual had been rendered ineffective (or dangerous).  Callidus’s newest batch of owl-sight resulted in no flashy display, no alarming meltdowns.  It was a good sign, but Callidus still eyed the brew suspiciously.  The next step would be to test it on a rat before testing it on himself.

 

He was always meticulous about this part.  Yes, it was true that he was feeling extremely keen to find a solution.  Ever since students at Hogwarts started falling sick, it had felt like watching the march of a conquering army, of seeing the fall of dominos and knowing that it was only a matter of time before he would fall as well.  Perhaps he would not succumb to the disease.  No.  Worse would be to see his friends falling around him, and knowing that he failed to stop it.

 

But while the need may have felt dire, while some part of him cried out for a solution before it was too late, his good habits were well-ingrained.  And that meant careful testing of new solutions.  He dabbed a generous amount of the liquid on the rat, and waited.  After a period, he used a number of spells to measure the status of the creature, and with a hum, he determined that the rat was perfectly healthy.

 

It was time to test the solution.  He braced himself for failure.  Using an owl feather (one thing he never had to worry about suffering a shortage of), he painted the solution on his eyelids and waited.  When he opened his eyes again, the lab was dizzyingly clear, with bits of dust and dirt needlessly magnified, ingredients distorted and bizarre in their clarity, and the grain of wood of the table displayed in painful detail, but that wasn’t what interested him.  Accustomed to not being able to see his own magic up close, he looked towards a mirror that was now a permanent fixture in his potions lab, and exhaled heavily when he saw no more than a faint transparent rippling around him.

 

Shaking his head, he picked up his quill and jotted a quick note about  _ Variation #47 _ .  He would have to keep trying.  Callidus was debating starting on #48 when he heard a crash and a muffled curse outside his lab.  He furrowed his brows as he looked towards the closed door, distantly noting that the what appeared like a smooth surface to human eyes was filled with cracks and crevices to owl eyes.

 

He wasn’t interested in what was going on outside the door.  It was just a distraction, and Callidus didn’t need a distraction, he needed a solution.  But he could hear the person scrambling around, speaking to themselves, and it was making him want to tear his hair out.  What was anyone doing outside the potions labs at this hour of the evening?  Was it some Slytherins attempting to alleviate their boredom in the most disruptive way?  Some hapless fool carrying out detention?  Or something else?

 

Frustrated, and not even bothering to meditate to cool his temper, Callidus stormed towards the door and flung it open.  He had opened his mouth to let loose a scathing harangue against the aggravating lackwit who  _ dared  _ to disrupt his experimentations, but the sight that greeted him caused all words to evapourate from his mind.  One of his classmates had evidently tripped and scattered their belongings all across the corridor, and they were scrambling on hands and knees to gather up their possessions.  But that wasn’t what interested Callidus.

 

 “Prince?” the boy on the ground squawked, eyes round as quaffles as he looked up at Callidus.

 

 “Longbottom,” Callidus snapped.  Neville Longbottom flinched, and clumsily attempted to stand, which only caused him to drop the items in his hands (including a cauldron), creating a bigger ruckus.  It took an effort for Callidus to not cringe.

 

 “What do you have all over you?” Callidus demanded.

 

 “Wh-what?  I don’t have anything on me!” Longbottom stammered, looking down at himself as if doubting his own words.

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  It was hard to maintain the upper hand when owl-sight was so disorienting, but he was a Slytherin.  And Longbottom was definitely covered in  _ something _ .  The other boy was practically  _ glowing _ , with the way streams of whitish-yellow light seemed to radiate off him, in curving loops and spirals, as though Longbottom were the sun and was emitting spectacular solar flares.

 

But upon closer look, Callidus could see that Longbottom’s black robes were still black, and whatever light that was shining from him was - was what?  Could this possibly be magic?  Could Callidus be seeing Longbottom’s magic?  He needed more information.  Immediately.

 

Longbottom’s frightened expression led Callidus to make a snap decision.  If Longbottom was afraid, then Callidus might as well leverage that fear to get the answers he wanted.  His hand lunging forward, he grabbed Longbottom by the collar of his robes.

 

 “What are you doing here, all the way in Slytherin territory?”

 

He felt Longbottom tremble.  “I-I’m supposed to be here!  I was meeting my tutor for potions!”

 

Callidus paused.  When it came to potions, Longbottom was one of the worst students in his year.  He hadn't realized that there were tutors delusional enough to believe that they could overcome hopeless ineptitude.  Must have been Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs.  No Ravenclaw would have been foolish enough to waste the time or energy.  Though perhaps there would be Slytherins willing to tutor him if the price was high enough.  Longbottom came from an old family after all.

 

 “And just was it that you were working on?” Callidus asked, letting his voice become silky and dangerous.

 

 “Just what we were doing in class the other day!” Longbottom cried, his voice edging ever higher.

 

 “Swelling solution?”

 

Longbottom nodded.  “Yeah, I think that was it.  Must’ve been that!”

 

Callidus frowned, eyeing Longbottom carefully.  “Did you happen to spill it all over yourself?”

 

 “Well, no, not this time, though I know I ordinarily do, or melt something, or cause an explosion, but I really don’t mean to!” Longbottom babbled.  “I tried to be extra careful, I swear!  And when I finished, the instructions said to put five drops under the tongue, so I did.”

 

Callidus blinked.  “Longbottom.  You’re  _ not supposed _ to consume swelling solution.  And if, indeed, you  _ had _ created swelling solution, it would be a miracle that you’d be able to breath, seeing as your tongue would have engorged to the point of blocking your airways.”

 

Longbottom blanched.  “It would have?”

 

 “Yes.  You would have suffocated quite quickly and quite horribly.”

 

Longbottom looked like he was about to faint, if not for Callidus’s tight grip on his collar.

 

 “Is your tutor completely useless?  Does he or she hold some sort of grudge against you?” Callidus wondered.  He shook his head, refocusing on Longbottom.  “Tell me the ingredients you put in that potion.  Now!”

 

 “I-I can’t remember all of them!” Longbottom cried.  “There - there was flobberworm mucus.  And - erm - snail eyestalks.  And some sort of pink petals.  And  spiny dye-murex?  Or was it smooth dye-murex?  And - and - something white and milky that wasn’t milk.  Oh, and I think some shooting stardust?  I don’t remember!”

 

 “None of those ingredients make up the swelling solution.  Just what instructions were you using?”

 

 “I don’t know!” Longbottom wailed.

 

Callidus made a snarl of frustration.  “Come here.”  He tugged at Longbottom’s collar and dragged him into his potions lab.  “Stand right there, and don’t even _ think _ about touching anything.  Do.  You.  Understand?”

 

 “Y-yes!” 

 

Callidus made his way over to the table, to where  _ Variation #47 _ of the owl-sight solution was still sitting.  His hands were almost shaking as he reached for the owl feather.  He needed confirmation that he wasn’t the only person who was seeing the beams of light shooting around Longbottom, and the only way to find out was to have confirmation from another person with owl-sight.  And what could be more convenient that Longbottom, who happened to already be here?

 

 “Look at that mirror,” Callidus ordered, pointing to the silvery object.  “Tell me what you see.”

 

 “Erm -” Longbottom glanced nervously at the mirror before looking back at Callidus and returning his attention to the mirror.  “I see - erm - myself.  In this - erm - lab.”

 

Callidus hummed.  “Close your eyes, Longbottom.”

 

 “Why?”

 

Callidus’s eyes thinned into slits.  “You have just ingested an unknown potion.  Are you really in a position to ask questions?  You  _ know _ that my knowledge of potions rivals that of the upper year students.  Perhaps it is even more advanced.  I’m not about to let you leave the dungeons without finding out more.”

 

Longbottom’s eyes bulged.  “M-maybe I should go see Madam Pomfrey -”

 

 “And what?  Medical magic may be extensive, but when it comes to diagnosing the ingestion mysterious potions, your samples would inevitably be sent to a lab.  A potions lab.  Which this is.  So.  I suggest that you calm your gormless whimpering and close your eyes.”

 

Longbottom flinched, but eventually obeyed him.  Callidus sighed with relief.  His grip tightened on the owl feather, and he made his way over to the other boy, painting the crimson liquid on his eyelids before the fearful Gryffindor could come to his senses and realized how inappropriate this situation was.

 

 “C-can I open my eyes now?” Longbottom asked.

 

 “Yes.  But bear in mind that while I am trying to help you, your vision may be changed.  Do not be alarmed.  The effects are only temporary.”

 

 “Er - all right.”  Longbottom opened his eyes, and nearly tripped on himself.  “Merlin!  What did you do to me?  Everything is so - so - weird!”

 

 “Look in the mirror, Longbottom.”

 

Longbottom obeyed.  When his eyes settled on his reflection, he yelped.  “Merlin’s beard!  What’s all that stuff around me?  What’s going on?  I don’t see anything around you.  Why is there all this weird light around me?”

 

Callidus felt a burst of triumph.  But Longbottom looked like he was close to melting down.  Worried about the other boy’s mind snapping, Callidus gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.  “Get a hold of yourself.  I’ll figure this out.”

 

 “I need to go to the infirmary!” Longbottom wailed.  “I need to see Madam Pomfrey!”

 

Callidus pursed his lips.  “That’s probably a good idea.  But listen to me.  Are you listening?”

 

 “I-” Longbottom’s eyes were misted with tears.  “Y-yeah.  I’m listening.”

 

 “I’m trying to help you.  What you are seeing around you is extremely unusual.  Madam Pomfrey may or may not be able to help, but I’m willing to get to the bottom of this, to make sure that everything is perfectly all right.”

 

Lips wobbling, Longbottom said: “You are?”

 

Callidus nodded firmly.  “I am.  In fact -” he paused as an idea struck him.  “I’m even willing to tutor your in potions.  Clearly, your current tutor is  _ completely _ useless.  Worse even.  If you had, in fact, been making swelling solution, you would have been  _ killed _ today.”

 

Longbottom’s complexion was swiftly turning green.

 

 “You could have very well died,” Callidus emphasized.  “It would be in your best interest to let me tutor you.”

 

 “I - erm -” Longbottom gave him an uncertain look.  “That sounds good, ‘n all, but, well, what do you get out of it?”

 

Callidus blinked.  Longbottom wasn’t as much of a dullard as he appeared.  “I’m intrigued by this mysterious potion you have created,” Callidus admitted.  “Purely on an academic level, of course.  If I tutor you, this could benefit both of us.”

 

 “Oh.  That makes sense.  I - all right.  Deal.”  Longbottom held out his hand to shake.  Callidus looked at it for a second before shaking it, unable to believe that an answer may have just stumbled into his hands.

 

 “Good.  Excellent.  Now -”

 

 “Erm - can I go to the infirmary now?” Longbottom asked.

 

As much as Callidus wanted to lock him away in the lab and study him, he had no other excuses to keep him here.  And, on the off chance that Longbottom had accidentally created something toxic, it seemed a prudent course of action for him to go and see Madam Pomfrey.  Callidus would hate to lose this new discovery to something as inconvenient as death.

 

Callidus nodded.  “But be sure to remember anything Pomfrey tells you, and make sure you tell me.  Otherwise, I won’t be able to do much to help you.  I’m often in my lab on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings, as well as mid-morning on Sundays, but send me a note first.”

 

 “Oh.  All right.”  Longbottom made his way towards the door, staring at it for a long, long while.  Evidently, he was still adjusting to the owl-sight potion.  But when he finally found the nerve to venture out, he turned back towards Callidus.

 

 “Erm - thanks, Prince.  For - er - helping me.  For a Slytherin, you’re not what I expected.”

  
Callidus only nodded in reply.  He wasn’t about to admit that he was as much a snake as any other Slytherin.


	30. Chapter 30

It was already the end of January, and despite the discoveries and gains that Callidus had made, it did not feel like nearly enough, especially because Callidus faced numerous setbacks as well.  He had successfully convinced Slughorn to write him a pass for the Restricted section, and yet, when he finally examined the books there, he learned that the one text he needed on Occlumency had been removed from the library, and Madam Pince couldn’t even provide an explanation of where it went, and why it was gone.  Instead, she gave an unhappy sniff, and said: “Take it up with the headmaster, if you are unhappy about the selection.”  Callidus had no desire to explain  _ anything _ to Dumbledore.  Nonetheless, Callidus was in a better position than he had been at the beginning of the month.  It reminded him of the slow process of trying to decant a finicky potion, where hours upon hours of work would barely result in enough fluid to cover the bottom of a phial.  But progress was still progress, and Callidus seized upon his new gains like a late-coming goldpanner seized upon the smallest flakes of gold.

 

Trying to fit Longbottom into his schedule was a bit of a trial, but eventually, they agreed to meet for the potion tutoring sessions on Monday evenings.  Callidus hoped it wouldn't be a decision that he would regret.  To say that Longbottom was clumsy and forgetful was to understate the very definition of clumsy and forgetful.  When it came to potions, at least, Longbottom was the personification of calamity.  It took every fibre of Callidus's will not to rain an endless torrent of vitriol upon the other boy.  Frankly, he deserved to win accolades and medals for his own remarkable restraint, as well as the fact that merely being in close proximity to Longbottom was a terrible hazard to his safety and well-being.

 

After Longbottom had fled to the infirmary following their fateful meeting, Callidus had been relieved to learn that the brew that Longbottom had ingested had not been toxic, not because he had been particularly worried about Longbottom's life (he didn't have strong feelings about Longbottom's life except in the sense that it seemed a miracle that the other boy had even managed to survive to the advanced age of twelve), but because it meant that whatever potion that Longbottom had thrown together would be easier to work with if it didn't kill people.  Callidus wasn’t entirely sure, but he strongly suspected that the potion that Longbottom ingested amplified the visibility of one’s magic, allowing one to see more than the typical transparent rippling that looked like heat-waves.  It was why he saw those arcs of vibrant white-yellow light around Longbottom, and yet, when he tried the owl-sight potion again, the lights did not appear around Longbottom thereafter, meaning that Longbottom wasn’t just some sort of magical anomaly.

 

Longbottom, for whatever reason, had convinced himself that he owed Callidus his life, despite Madam Pomfrey’s firm assurances that Longbottom was perfectly fine, but Callidus didn't bother to correct Longbottom's misperceptions; the view was something that seemed like it might have uses in the future.  Weren't Gryffindors supposed to be self-sacrificial sorts?  Besides, tutoring Longbottom was such an immense challenge (or should Callidus have said an impossibility?) that he was willing to take every advantage he could, no matter how far-fetched.

 

Because, in truth, Callidus had thought it would be a relatively simple matter to puzzle out the potion Longbottom had used.  Perhaps it would be a little more than figuring out which course book Longbottom had used, or going to Slughorn’s ingredients cupboard and getting Longbottom to point out which pink petals and milky substance he had used.  But no.  When Callidus tried to determine which instructions Longbottom had used, the other boy had become flustered, claiming that all books looked the same to him (though the books looked nothing alike!), and when Callidus had led Longbottom to Slughorn’s ingredient cupboard, he learned that Slughorn had recently restocked the shelves and according to Longbottom: ‘Everything is out of place!’  Life could never be easy, could it?

 

But dealing with Longbottom was onerous enough.  Callidus didn’t want to waste precious moments thinking of him as well.  At the moment, he was at the breakfast table with Harry and Draco, ignoring Pansy’s (admittedly droll) criticisms of Hufflepuff hairstyles, and Blaise’s (Zabini had insisted that if Callidus was on a first name basis with Pansy, he might as well be on a first name basis with Blaise as well) dry interjections.

 

The familiar rustling sound of air resistance against parcels and envelopes marked the arrival of the owl post, but Callidus was not expecting any messages so soon.  Because his attention had not been dragged away from the table to the owls, Callidus found himself watching Harry instead, not because there was nothing else to look at, but because of some subtle change in Harry’s posture, that suggested a rapt sort of attention.  What was going on?

 

Callidus followed Harry’s line of sight, and saw that he was looking at Euphemia Rowle.  Had Harry already gone ahead and pranked her?  Harry hadn’t mentioned anything, but on the other hand, Callidus hadn’t exactly asked.  Rowle was holding a folded parchment in her hands, wearing her normal, bored and haughty expression.  But as she opened the letter, her eyes widened slightly, and a tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks.  Her eyes darted to someone across the table, but Callidus could not see who.  However, she returned her attention back to the letter.  It was only when Rowle’s friend gently nudged her that Rowle finally put away the letter.

 

Callidus frowned and looked at Harry.  Harry’s expression was strangely pleased, and yet, so too was Rowle’s.  He couldn’t make sense of it and decided he would have to ask Harry about it later.  However, Callidus’s chance did not come until the weekend, when the trio were able to continue their search for Harry’s mysterious secret chamber throughout the lazy late afternoon.

 

They were beginning on the second floor.  Their careful investigation of the first floor was finally complete, which came as an immense relief; having to face the stares of so many students had been unnerving. True, most people knew better than to stare at a group of Slytherins, no matter how odd their behaviour, but the weight of the other students’ suspicions was exhausting.  At least it had given Draco the chance to perfect the curl of his sneer, and Callidus was mastering the art of giving menacing glares through the curtains of his inky hair.  Harry mostly just lifted his shoulders to his ears, or gave the other students sheepish smiles, and failed to look threatening at all.

 

At this point, Callidus had almost forgotten about the incident with Rowle.  But when Draco ventured off to check one of the other rooms, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wanted to say to Harry.

 

Finally it came to him.  “Harry.”

 

His friend looked over at him, eyebrows lifted questioningly.

 

 “I saw you looking at Rowle other day.  You have a plan for a prank?”

 

A slow smile spread across Harry's lips.  “Something like that,” he answered, mysteriously.

 

Callidus arched an eyebrow.  “Care to explain?”

 

 “What, and ruin the surprise?”

 

 “Is it a surprise?”

 

Harry's grin widened.  “You'll just have to wait and see.” His expression flickered and he bit down on his lower lip. “But I'm not entirely certain that it will work out like I hope.”  He shrugged.  “Either way, she’ll be put in her place.”

 

Callidus smirked.  “You’re starting to sound more like a pureblood princeling every day.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Oh, leave off.  I am not.”

 

 “He's not what?” asked Draco, who had returned, looking between them.

 

 “A pureblood prince,” Harry said, face scrunched up in distaste at the description.

 

Draco frowned.  “Celebrity, certainly.  But prince?  Besides, Callidus’s surname is Prince, so by default, he would get the label, if anyone.”

 

 “I'm sure you'd prefer that title yourself, wouldn't you?” Callidus asked, amused.

 

 “I'm not making any claims,” Draco said, with false indifference.

 

Callidus snorted.  “No need when you can just imply it.”

 

Draco merely shrugged in reply, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

Harry had been a bit half-hearted about their search at first, still believing that the secret chamber with somewhere below grounds, but as they ventured through the second level corridors, he became increasingly excited, his green eyes darting back and forth, as though seeing the halls for the first time.

 

 “I can't explain it,” Harry said, when he noticed Callidus’s and Draco’s questioning stares, “but this feels right.  It's as though I've been here before.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Harry, we passed by here almost every day on the way to our classes.  Of course you've been here before.”

 

Harry huffed.  “That's not what I meant.  What I mean is that I feel like I've dreamed of this before.  We're close.  We  _ have _ to be close.”

 

Though searching through the school for the secret chamber was a tiring endeavour, Harry's intense excitement was infectious.  He seemed to almost hum with some irrepressible energy that was its own sort of magic, and reminded Callidus a little of a hound who had caught a scent, and whose brain was seized by the prey drive, completely single-minded in its aim.  Even Draco, who was usually the first to want to return to the comforts of the common room, felt himself drawn in by Harry's focused energy.  In this way, the trio quickly lost track of time, and before they knew it, it was nearly curfew.

 

 “I want to keep looking,”  said Harry,  lip jutted out in a stubborn pout.  “We have Camouflage Potion.  Why don't we use it?  It feels like it's been ages since we sneaked out anywhere.”

 

 “It does feel rather wrong to keep obeying rules,” Draco admitted.  “It’s like being a - a Hufflepuff, or something.”

 

 “The worst fate of all,” Callidus said, wryly.

 

But Draco seemed to miss Callidus’s ironic tone, and shuddered lightly.  “It is, isn’t it.  All right. Let’s do it.  We can wait until the halls have cleared and head out after curfew.  Besides, it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in.”

 

 “Though we still have Quidditch practice,” Harry pointed out.  “But it’s not  _ that _ early.  And I still want to keep looking either way.”

 

Harry and Draco looked towards Callidus, as if he had the final word.  Noticing the question in their eyes, Callidus shrugged.  Rules didn’t particularly matter to him unless they got caught.  “We can keep looking.”

 

Harry and Draco grinned, feeling a thrilled frisson from this new layer of excitement that had been added to their search.

 

When the trio ventured out that night, they saw that they weren't the only ones.  The nights didn't belong to mischief makers alone; it also belonged to young lovers who wanted to have the world to themselves, where the cover of darkness made the words whispered in each other's ears all the more sweet and urgent.  But lovers were a threat to no one but themselves, blinded by the hormones that made them take risks that they might call romantic, but that a more rational mind would know was only foolishness.  And besides, the trio had an advantage that the lovers lacked: the Camouflage and Foot-silencing potions.  Unfortunately, tools were only as good as the witches or wizards using them, and the potions gave the trio a sense of confidence, when they would have been better served by furtiveness and caution.

 

They returned to the second floor where they had left off their search.  Draco grumbled about the darkness (since the torches burned low), and even Harry stubbed his toe once or twice, but none of them dared to use  _ lumos  _ and risk drawing attention to themselves.  Though they made slow progress, there was something pleasing about having the floor all to themselves.  The eerie silence make them feel like they were the only ones in the world, and the risk they were running made it seem like danger lurked around corner.  Their constant utterances of: ‘Open!  Open!’ felt less ridiculous in the dark.

 

But the more they searched, the more agitated and frustrated Harry became.  His hopes had been too high, and Callidus had a feeling that Harry thought they should have found the chamber by this point.  Instead of enjoying their little adventure, Harry became too focused on the ends rather than the means.  Draco may have been oblivious to it, but Callidus noted the tightness around Harry’s eyes, and his clenched jaw.  

 

They had just finished up examining one of the classrooms, that was used in some of the upper year classes, which felt far more taboo than sneaking into unused classrooms, when Draco who was already at the door, gasped.

 

 “Merlin, no!” he whispered in dismay, and Callidus and Harry looked up at him, worried.

 

 “What is it?” Harry asked, his voice quiet but alarmed.

 

Draco had already backed away from the doorway, eyes wide and expression panicked.

 

  “It's Mrs. Norris,” he hissed, referring to Filch’s sour-tempered cat.  Callidus's stomach dropped.

 

 “Bloody hell,” Harry swore, expression darkening.

 

The three of them froze when, in the distance, they heard Filch's familiar voice singing out: “Where are you, my sweet?  Have you found someone out of bed, and making mischief in the shadows?”

 

 “He probably won't see us if we're careful,” Callidus tried to reason.  “We have the advantage of the Camouflage Potion.”

 

 “Merlin, I _really_ don't want to get detention with Filch,” Draco moaned.  “Do you remember what he made Blaise and Millie do for their detention in first year?  They had to _scrub_ _floors_.  With their hands!  Malfoy's don't touch floors with their hands.  Floors aren't _meant_ to be touched with one's hands.”

 

 “Let's just get out of here before Filch gets any closer,” Callidus said, in no mood for Draco's theatrics.

 

 “Yeah,” Harry agreed.  “We can't stay here.”

 

Mrs. Norris was already at the door, meowing urgently for Filch to come.  The potion may have made the trio nearly invisible, but being camouflaged with no defense against Mrs. Norris's sharp nose.  There was an evil gleam in the cat's yellow eyes, as if, like her master Filch, she relished the possible suffering of the students.

 

 “Evil cat,” Draco muttered, but he kept his voice low lest they draw Filch’s attention.

 

The trio’s movements were hurried, though they kept to the shadows where the Camouflage Potion worked best.  But despite Mrs Norris's scrawniness, despite the fact that she was so skeletal that she looked like she was on her last leg, the cat was alarmingly agile.  Knowing that they had a potion to silence their footfalls, the trio were already running, desperate to make their way back to the common room.  They sprinted down the corridor, sharply turning a corner, but Mrs. Norris matched them step for step, like a demonic shadow on their tail.

 

The way should have been clear, but the magic of the castle seemed to be working against them tonight.  In the dark of night, nothing looked as familiar as it should have.  They ran past a statue of a winged horse that Callidus could have sworn was on the other side of the castle.  He felt horribly disoriented, and his brief glances towards Harry and Draco suggested that they felt the same.

 

The beating of his heart was terrifyingly loud, and he felt like it would lead Filch straight to them, and all the while Mrs. Norris leapt and bound, like they were her prey, and she was readying herself for the kill.  Had the second floor always been this much of a maze?  And even if it was, Callidus thought that they hadn't even explored the second floor that extensively  How in the world could have gotten themselves so lost?  Have they made a wrong turn in the dark?  Were they going in circles?  Callidus thought that they should have come to a staircase by now.

 

They turned another corner into a darkened hallway, their legs and lungs burning, but to their horror, it led to a dead end.  Callidus hadn't even realized that Hogwarts second floor  _ had _ any dead ends.  Luck was not at all in their favour.  No, luck was particularly cruel tonight.

 

He heard Draco swear, in cruder language than the blond had ever used before.  But the choice of words was apt: it felt like they were doomed.

 

Mrs. Norris had slowed her pace, and was sauntering towards them, her lantern-like eyes filled with a menacing glow.  Her wiry muscles seem to ripple beneath her skin, shoulders rotating as if preparing to pounce.

 

Callidus was almost ready to resign himself to his fate, but next to him, he heard Harry swear, his language filled with an underlying rage that was clear, even in the dark.  Moments later, Harry repeated his swear, the words more of a resolution than a surrender, and furiously, he stomped forward.  The unexpected action caused Mrs Norris to falter in her step.

 

 “Harry?”  Draco called out, uncertainly. “What are you -”

 

But Harry wasn't listening. He moved like a warrior walking into battle, and Mrs. Norris seem to sense his intent, but she wasn't afraid of him.  There was a fatality to the scene that was terrifying.  It seemed so wrong, like this was too great a risk to take, but Callidus's mouth had dried and words would not come.

 

The next minute seemed to happen in slow motion. Mrs. Norris's tail was swishing back and forth in a cat-like signal of aggression.

 

 “You're just a cat,” Harry taunted. “What are you going to do?” He looked back towards Callidus and Draco.  “Get out of here,” he insisted.  

 

Understanding Harry's purpose, Callidus and Draco edged forward, pressed against the wall to stay as far away from Mrs. Norris as possible.  The cat might be able to get one of them, but she couldn't get all of them - or at least that seem to be Harry's reasoning.

 

But Mrs. Norris wasn't about to admit defeat. The cat took her purpose in life as seriously as Filch did. She was not about to go slinking away into the night, defeated.  Callidus was a little ahead of Draco, knowing his position was more vulnerable, but he also knew that despite Draco's talk, the other boy was no true leader.  Draco only led when success with assured, or when his father had his back; he was not the sort of person to stand on the front lines, where wands were drawn and sacrifices had to be made.  Or to put it a little more kindly: Draco had a particularly strong self-preservation instinct.

 

Mrs. Norris was looking from Harry to Callidus, unwilling to let her pray elude her.  Harry was standing still but Callidus was not, so she made her decision, acting on instinct alone.  Claws unsheathed, she leapt towards Callidus, and he braced himself for the possibility of torn flesh and a tangle of fur, but there was an unexpected blur of motion, and a split second later Mrs Norris’s body was thrown against the wall.

 

 “Did you just kick her?” Draco gasped, behind him.

 

Even in the darkness, Harry's eyes were wide and horrified. He looked down at a bundle of fur and jutting bones upon the floor, unable to believe what had just done, but now was not the time for a moral crisis.

 

 “We have to get out of here,” Callidus hissed.  He reached out and grabbed Harry by the sleeve, yanking him hard.  As they dashed away, Harry couldn't stop looking over his shoulder at that bedraggled creature, and Callidus didn’t have to see his face to know that there was guilt written all over it.

 

 “She's fine,” Callidus said, but he didn't know for sure whether his words were a lie or the truth.  And honestly, he didn't really care.

 

The trio made their way through the twists and turns of the second floor, finally managing to find a staircase, and making their way down to the dungeon.  When they enter the common room, they were all breathing hard, but Draco's expression was elated.

 

 “I can't believe we got away!” he burst out.  “Merlin, I can't believe what you did to Mrs. Norris!”

 

Irritated, Callidus jabbed Draco with his elbow, wondering how the blond could possibly be so oblivious to Harry’s distress, because all it took was one look at Harry to know that the other boy was deeply upset.  But Draco was clearly unable to understand the situation, and rubbed his side, giving Callidus an affronted look.

 

Harry was shaking his head, his green eyes distant as if replaying the earlier encounter in his mind.

 

 “What have I done,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at Callidus, his green eyes enormous and his expression stricken.

 

 “She'll be fine,” Callidus repeated, stepping forward and placing his hand on Harry's shoulder.

 

Harry was still shaking his head.  “I was so  _ furious. _ In that moment, I swear I could have killed her.  What if I did? What if I did kill her?”

 

 “Wait,” Draco interjected, “are you upset about kicking Mrs Norris?”

 

 “Yes!” Harry cried. “What if she's dead?”

 

 “She's a Kneazle,” Draco pointed out. “Or at least she's part Kneazle.  You could bat one of those things across the Quidditch pitch like a bludger and they would be fine.”

 

 “Really?” Harry wondered, hopeful.

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes.  At least, I think so.”

 

Harry exhaled heavily, running one of his hands through his hair and gripping the strands tightly.  “I can't believe what I did.  I was just - so, so angry.  I just saw red and I wanted to destroy that cat for being in my way.”

 

Draco smirked. “That was a Gryffindor level of recklessness.  You have no self-preservation instinct, Harry.  But it was pretty awesome.”

 

 “No!” Harry cried, flinging his hands out in frustration. “It was not.  I don't even know why I was so angry. If we had gotten caught, all that would have meant was detention. Nothing about that situation justified hurting Mrs. Norris, or any animal for that matter.”

 

 “Just detention?” Draco echoed, incredulous.  “Harry, it was Filch. Who _ knows _ what he would have made us do.”

 

 “Animals are hurt all the time in the wizarding world,” Callidus added.  “It’s an inescapable fact of life and of potions.  I’ve done far worse things to rats than what you did to Mrs. Norris.”

 

Harry paled.  “It was still wrong.”  He shook his head. “I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's just go to bed.”

 

Draco gave Harry a long look, while Callidus merely shrugged.  Now that they were no longer fleeing anything, exhaustion stole its way into their muscles and bones, and their beds sounded like a haven of comfort.  

 

It wasn't until all the boys were in bed, their curtains drawn around them, that Callidus realized that he forgotten to mention the pendant to Harry.  It was something that remain tethered to the corners of Callidus’s mind, that he did not often think about, and yet couldn't forget, especially on nights when he did not sleep, and could hear Harry moaning and shifting restlessly under his covers.  For the most part, Harry still seemed like himself, and it was easy to ignore the existence of the pendant, but enchantments were powerful magic, and maybe this night's bizarre events would finally convince Harry to question the pendant.  

  
But maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe Draco had been right all along, and Callidus was just jealous about Harry having an enchanted pendant. He sighed and turned over onto his side.  Perhaps what was more likely was that they had just gotten caught up in the adrenaline of the moment. It was with these thoughts that Callidus drifted off to sleep.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've switched over to voice typing rather than regular typing, so if these last two chapters have felt "off" it's because I was struggling to adjust to voice typing

February crept up upon them with alarming speed, and for Hermione at least, this meant that she was already intensely revising for exams.  Callidus, who was also invested in his academic performance, had begun to do a little bit of revising as well, but unlike Hermione he was not panicked or obsessive about it, not because he was so confident in his abilities, but because he was a Slytherin and Slytherins did not reveal their weaknesses and fears. He also had a number of other worries on his mind.

 

After the incident with Mrs. Norris, Harry had been abjectly miserable, and though he may not have said anything out loud, it was clear from the down-tilt of his head and his slumped shoulders that he was berating himself, as though he was a monster incarnate.  But when Harry soon after discovered that Mrs. Norris was perfectly fine, his relief was so great that when Callidus finally had a chance to mention the pendant, Harry brushed aside his worries with a laugh.

 

 “You worry too much,” Harry had said.  “Besides, why would Draco ever give me something that would hurt me?”

 

Callidus hadn’t been sure of what to say to that.  He was, at the moment, sitting at the table with the Gryffindor girls in the fourth floor classroom. He should have been looking over his charms notes, but instead, was reading a book on enchantments, which, even if it had nothing to do with Harry, was a fascinating subject.  It was a shame Hogwarts didn't offer any classes in enchantments, but it was an extremely challenging form of magic that most people weren't able to grasp.  But the idea of an intellectual challenge intrigued Callidus,  and furthermore, enchantments were _powerful_.

 

 “Callidus.”

 

Callidus looked up at the sound of Hermione's voice, eyebrows raised.

 

 “About that situation with the fifth years,” she tentatively began.

 

Callidus knit his brows. “You've been researching it?  I thought you were revising.”

 

 “I'm able to do more than two things at once, I'll have you know,” she answered sounding mildly offended.  “And besides, you don't think I forgot about your situation did you?”

 

 “'Moine never lets a problem go,” Ginny remarked.  “Not if it's important.”

 

 “Did you learn something about mind magic, then?” Callidus ask, hopeful.

 

Hermione's expression was apologetic as she said: “Not exactly, no, but thinking about the mind was interesting so I started looking into some Muggle studies about the brain and psychology.”

 

Callidus frowned. “Psychology?”  He wondered what that had to do with anything.

 

Hermione nodded eagerly, eyes brightening. “Yes muggles have done extensive experiments on behavior and psychology.  Of course, some the old experiments they did were rather unethical and even disturbing, but the muggle understanding of the mind has come quite far.”

 

 “Oh?  And you think you've learned something relevant to my situation?”

 

 “Possibly,” Hermione answered, momentarily biting down on her lower lip.  “Have you ever heard of something called behavioral conditioning?”

 

Callidus shook his head. “I don't think so.”

 

Hermione hummed.  “I can't say that I understand all the intricacies of it, and the theory behind it has drawn a certain degree of criticism, but something you mentioned once made me think that it might be applicable to your situation.  You said once that aside from the initial spell that those fifth years cast, that you couldn’t sense any magic on yourself?”

 

 “No, I couldn't sense any magic, but mind magic could work differently.”

 

 “Maybe,” Hermione murmured, “but there is another possibility. We don't know for certain what those fifth years have done to you, but perhaps what they did was traumatic enough that on some level they conditioned you, which could account for your discomfort when you're around us.”

 

 “What's that even mean?” Caiside questioned.

 

While the terms may have confused Caiside and Ginny, Callidus needed no explanation. Hermione's suggestion had hit him hard and made him feel sick to his stomach. If what she said was true, then those fifth years had all but train him like a dog.  The words of the Gryffindor girls were a blur, as Callidus's thoughts battered him like a tempest.  Could it really be true? Could whatever those fifth years have done to him somehow conditioned him so that being around the Gryffindor is made his skin break out in a sweat, and his heart race?  Could they have made him _afraid_ of the Gryffindor?  And how had magic not protected him from conditioning?  The idea that this was all some sort of mind trick made him feel strangely tainted and he wished he could scrub his mind clean.

 

He heard Ginny say:  “So what you're saying is that they're trying to change Callidus through rewards or punishment?  Though I'm guessing they're not rewarding him.”

 

 “That's the basics of it,” Hermione answered.

 

 “We can't confirm it,” Callidus growled, feeling raw.  The worried looks from the girls was making him uncomfortable, and reminding him of just how little control he had in this situation.

 

 “No, but it's important to consider,” Hermione pointed out. “And if you have been conditioned, then its is just a matter of using conscious awareness to gradually undo it.” Her expression gentled and she leaned towards him, looking as if she wanted to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. “If it _is_ this, we might be better off.  At least it means we know what we're facing.”

 

Callidus’s expression was dark, but he nodded.  Though he knew that he had agreed to the Gryffindors’ help, he still hated that Hermione had been the one to discover this, rather than discovering it himself.  It wasn't that he begrudged her her intellect; it was simply that the unknown corners of his mind felt like too personal a place to expose before the three Gryffindors.

 

 “I can do more research,” Hermione tried to reassure him.

 

But Callidus shook his head. “I'm capable of doing my own research.”

 

 “We could find an answer faster if we work together,” she pointed out.

 

 “No!” Callidus answered, far too sharply.

 

Hermione flinched back, her expression wounded.  “I'm just trying to help.”

 

Though he wanted nothing more than to crawl back to the dungeons, and face these troubles alone, he forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself.  “I appreciate the help,” he ground out, “but I'm fine.”

 

 “But -”

 

 “'Moine,” Caiside interrupted, “just let it go.”

 

Hermione gave the other girl a stubborn look, chin tilted challengingly.  Callidus had a feeling that Caiside's words were more for Hermione sake then for his own, but he was still grateful to her.  Eventually, Hermione broke eye contact with Caiside.

 

 “I don't like this,” she said to Callidus, “but you are one of the cleverest people I know, so I know that if anyone could handle this, it would be you.”

 

Callidus nodded, appreciating the show of faith.  “Thank you,” he murmured, more because Hermione was willing to let the matter go, then for her remark about his intelligence.  

 

After giving him a worried look, she finally returned to her revising, much to his relief. But while Callidus had returned his attention back to his own book, his thoughts were fixed on what Hermione had revealed to him. He did not want the Gryffindors to know just how significant the information was to him, but there was no denying that he was shaken by it.  If what Hermione said was true, then did it mean that he was following a false lead? But no, he had heard the fifth years talking about mind magic.  All Hermione's hypothesis really revealed was that Callidus didn't really understand the situation at all, but he knew that all along.  If anything, this was just an unfortunate reminder.

 

Callidus returned to the common room earlier than usual, his concentration tattered by Hermione's discovery. As he entered through the passageway, he was surprised to see that Harry and Draco we're already finished their practice, and we're sitting at the sofa by the fire with the rest of the second years.

 

 “Cal!” Harry cried, standing up.  The expression on Harry's face caused Callidus to freeze on the spot, and his foreboding was confirmed when he saw Harry's eyes flick towards fifth years.  As if realizing that he was drawing attention to himself, Harry quickly sat down. Callidus hurriedly made his way over to the sofa, keeping his face impassive. Harry must have heard the fifth years making plans with the spider ears spell.

 

Harry opened his mouth, but Callidus quickly cut him off.  “Tell me later,” he said, his voice low.

 

Harry darted another glance at the fifth years but then nodded.

 

 “You're practice finished early?” Callidus asked Harry and Draco.

 

Harry's expression became embarrassed, while Draco just scowled.

 

 “ _Something_ seemed to have distracted Harry,” Draco said with a pointed look at Harry.  “He didn't even notice the snitch when it was right in front of his nose.  Flint was _furious_ , or at least as furious as he could be, considering that we've been regularly dosing him with that friendliness stuff you gave us.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I was kind of distracted. But it was just one time! It's not like I'm always distracted. Flint didn't have to tell me that he'd wring my neck, and spit on my parents' grave, and that I was a failure of a seeker that would amount to nothing.” Harry pouted. “Usually he only talks like that when he's not dosed on the friendliness potion.”

 

 “So Flint made us leave early,” Draco continued.  “Said he couldn't stand to see our faces anymore. Though why he included me, I have no idea.” He gave Harry and irritated look. “I guess that's just what I get for defending you.”

 

Harry grinned and nudged Draco's shoulder. “I really do appreciate it. You're the best sort of brother that anyone could ask for.”

 

Draco huffed. “It's a good thing flattery will get you everywhere.”

 

 “I wasn't trying to flatter you. It's true.”

 

 “You're so embarrassing, Harry,” Draco grumbled, his cheeks turning pink. “You can't just say things like that.”

 

Harry shrugged. “I just did.”

 

 “Has anyone ever told you how cute you three are?” Pansy interjected. “If ever I'm having a bad day, I cheer myself up by watching the three of you interact.”

 

 “It's true,” Blaise drawled.  “She was terribly put out this morning when she woke up with utterly intractable hair, but seeing three of you spewing your affection all over the place has cheered her considerably.”

 

 “We do not _spew_ ,” Draco sputtered, looking both disgusted and offended.

 

A slow smile crept across Blaise’s face. “So you admit to being affectionate.”

 

 “I admit nothing,” Draco retorted, vexed.

 

It wasn't until they returned to the dormitories, that Callidus and Harry had a chance to speak.  Draco was in the bathrooms, and they knew that he would take a while.

 

 “I'm guessing I won't be having any sleep tonight?” Callidus asked, seated on the edge of his bed.

 

Harry, who was sitting cross-legged next to him, shook his head. “Worse.”

 

Callidus frowned.  “Worse?”

 

 “I heard them talking during practice,” Harry explained. “That's what distracted me from seeing the snitch.”

 

 “I gathered as much.”

 

Harry bit his lower lip. “Yeah, well, I heard them saying that they were going to try again tonight. Only -” his expression became something unhappy and Callidus’s sense of apprehension increased.

 

 “What did they say?” Callidus prodded.

 

 “They said they were going to keep trying,” Harry finished, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loud made a situation far too real to bear. “They're going to keep trying night after night. But they said they weren't going to give up until - until -” Harry couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

 

After a stretch of silence, Harry said: “Maybe we _should_ tell one of the professors about this, like Slughorn or something.  I don't know what those fifth years are doing to you but I really don't like it.

 

 “No!” Callidus exclaimed, causing Harry to look up at him sharply.

 

 “No,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice controlled. He hadn't told his friends what Hermione had said to him earlier, but he dreaded the idea of telling any of the professors or telling the Headmaster, especially if it turned out that the problem was all in his head.  After all, if all the fifth years had done was condition him, then how could he explain himself? How could he explained that it wasn't even magic? That it wasn't even really hurting him?

 

“I can handle it,” he tried to assure Harry. “If it comes down to it, I can make use of meditative techniques to protect myself. And if I can ever get that book on Occlumency, then I'll be fine.”

 

 “Are you talking about the fifth years?” Draco asked. Callidus hadn't even noticed his arrival, despite the glossy sheen of Draco's green silk pajamas.  “They aren't causing you more trouble are they?  Maybe I can try to get them expelled. My father is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, you know.”

 

As distressed of Callidus was, he couldn't help the choked laugh that escaped his lips. “It's a pleasant thought, but I can't imagine that the Board of Governors is responsible for expelling students. I believe that job belongs to Dumbledore.”

 

Draco's brows drew together. “All right I suppose he probably wouldn't be able to expel them. Perhaps I should tell my father to blacklist them instead. If they're financially ruined they're not going to be able to afford the Hogwarts tuition.”

 

Callidus snorted. “While it will hardly help me sleep any better, I don't think I would object to seeing them financially ruined. But they don't strike me as the sort to have much to ruin in the first place, unfortunately. It wouldn't exactly be fair to the families, but I can't imagine their parents being particularly decent people if they ended up with offspring like those fifth years.”

 

 “I'll do it then,” Draco declared, with a sudden toothy smile.  “There's something dreadfully satisfying about the idea of ruining someone.”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “Trust you to say that without a trace of irony.”

 

 “I'm a Malfoy,” Draco answered with a shrug. “Using power is in my blood.”

 

 “That would also be true if you replaced ‘using’ with ‘abusing’,” Harry mused.

 

Draco smirk. “What's the difference?”

 

 “What indeed,” Callidus murmured.

 

As Callidus lay in the bed that night, he thought about simply drifting off and facing fifth years. But despite his earlier bravado, the idea filled him with dread.  Instead, he found himself thinking about being behaviorally conditioned. Though a part of him wanted to shy away from the possibility of such a thing happening to him, it also felt like the most fixable problem. He may not be able to wave a wand to make it go away, but he couldn't help thinking that willpower alone could crush this problem.  Suppose that somehow the fifth years had conditioned him to fear the Gryffindor girls - then wasn't the solution a matter of spending more time with the Gryffindors?  Of enduring their rather distasteful affection?  It sounded easy enough, and if he thought back over the past month, he realized that there were times when he completely forgot about how uncomfortable the Gryffindors made him feel, especially if he was distracted.

 

Despite the unease that jittered through him, and despite the way that his thoughts buffeted him in endless circles, Callidus eventually drifted off to sleep, having no books, nor lights, nor notes to distract him and force his wakefulness.

 

What seems like only seconds later, he found himself and his potions lab, frantically trying to clean up the impossible mess of slime that Longbottom had made.  He had long given up trying to clean up the slime with his wand; each flick of his wrist only seemed to make the situation worse, the slime coating everything.  He felt a terrible horror, knowing that the slime would destroy his precious potions ingredients unless he acted fast.

 

 “Well,” came a feminine voice behind him, full of a gleeful menace, “it’s been a rather long while, hasn’t it?  Oh my, what a mess here.  You’re difficult to get a hold of, you know.  It's almost like you don't sleep.”

 

Callidus froze as he realized that he was dreaming.  The slime, which seemed so important before, no longer mattered.  He turned around, willing his heart to slow, and his mind to still.  His mental control, his meditative state, was the only defense that he had.

 

 “Hoyt,” he greeted, flatly.

 

The girl arched her brows. “So, you know my name.” She shrugged. “I suppose it doesn't really matter.  I’m just here to make sure you suffer for your crimes, traitor.”

 

 “The crimes of what?” Callidus asked, darkly. “Is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night?  You Hoyts come from a family of mind healers, don't you? Your actions certainly violate those principles.  You think you're up holding Slytherin traditions?  I think you sink to this level of pettiness because deep down you know that you're no true Slytherin.”

 

The girl, Hoyt, narrowed her eyes. “You know nothing of me or my family.”

 

 “Do they know that you're abusing family magics?”

 

Hoyt snarled. “The magic is mine by right!” She looked like she was ready to begin hexing him, but she managed to regain her grip on her temper.  “Such big talk for a little boy who's essentially in my power.  We can all have a little fun once my friends get here.”

 

 “Too weak to do anything on your own?” Callidus taunted, though he knew it was foolish. He braced himself, and not a moment too soon because seconds later they felt Hoyt’s magic lashing out towards him and he was overwhelmed with pain.  And yet, Callidus’s action had paid off: he saw the flickering impressions of Hoyt's friends as they tried to connect to her mind but her lack of control had broken the connection and like shadows exposed to the light, they faded.

 

 “Bloody hell!” the girl swore. “Look what you've done!  Uugh!  If Alphie can't connect, he’s going to - uuugh!  You stupid little brat!”

 

 “You always do what Alphie wants you to do?” Callidus ask, between panting breaths.

 

 “I do what _I_ want,” Hoyt spat out.

 

 “Ah, so you like submitting to Alfie,” Callidus needled, knowing that he was being reckless but angry enough about his situation to not care. “You like bending over backwards for him.”

 

Magic hit him again, and he felt his knees buckle from the pain but his ability to maintain a partial meditative state kept the pain at a barely tolerable level.  Dream or not, there was a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his heart pattered wildly in his chest.  And although he was the one on his knees, and Hoyt was the one who was standing, he still felt the gratification of knowing that he had won the battle.  His body was tremoring, but his mind was clear.  Hoyt was the one who was looking wild-eyed, and frazzled.

 

 “Getting tired?” He mocked.

 

Hoyt narrowed her eyes.  “We've only just begun.”

 

Callidus forced his lips into a smirk. “I could do this all night,” he lied.

 

 “We'll see about that.” Another wave of intense magic hit him so that his nerves screamed, and his muscles quivered.  If he had been able to think more objectively, he would have found it remarkable that in this dream state, the pain could mirror reality so well.

  
As Hoyt used her magic to torment him, the pain was like a symphony of terrible sensations, and yet it wasn't anywhere as bad as it would be if all her friends had been here. But although Hoyt was here on her own, his own mental magic was not strong enough to break her spell. Nonetheless, he was grateful that she was alone, and though a part of him was tempted to keep mocking her, he didn't want her to know how weak her individual spell-casting was.  It gratified him to see Hoyt struggling with her magic.  It gratified in too that by the end of the night, the pain was increasingly bearable, like the intense discomfort of a flu rather than blinding white agony.  And best of all, Hoyt had lost sense of her own magical endurance, and instead of ending the spell, the connection snapped, and Callidus was soon able to return to the peace of his own mind.


	32. Chapter 32

Callidus may have won that particular battle against Hoyt, but the war against the fifth years was by no means over.  Callidus had woken up the next day with a pounding headache, and a grin of triumph on his face.  It was maddening that he couldn't precisely remember what had happened, though the memory felt like it was right there on the edges of his mind if only he could reach out and grasp it, but he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had happened, he had come out on top. 

 

He kept expecting an attack soon after.  He redoubled his mediation efforts, and steeled his nerves every night waiting for it to come.  And yet, morning after morning, he woke up well rested, and even Harry had reported that the fifth years were not making plans (“But that Hoyt girl has been in a  _ really _ bad mood lately.  I've never heard her scream at Alphie so much”).

 

Early in February, another case of the Orange Madness struck Hogwarts.  The student affected had been an upper year Ravenclaw whose name was unfamiliar to the trio.  And despite the fact that Hogwarts still remain safer than the outside world, the incident renewed the sense of fear that pervaded the student body.  But calloused thought it may have been, the incident did not remain in the students’ minds for very long. This was due to the fortunate fact that the Ravenclaw, being inquisitive and well-informed, had caught their own symptoms before the phase known as ‘the madness’ had manifested.  The student had gone to the infirmary immediately, and knowing that the situation would only get worse, had willingly submitted to being put in a magical stasis.  The lack of drama, and the responsibilities of school life were enough to bury most students’ fears.

 

This new incidence of the disease may have caught many people off guard, but Callidus, who was fixated on learning more about the disease itself, had expected the disease to resurface. If anything, Callidus was surprised that there weren't more incidents of the Orange Madness, and he felt a sort of growing admiration for those who had crafted Hogwarts’ defenses.

 

But life continued on, and before he knew it, it was creeping up to Valentine's day - a day that Callidus would have entirely forgotten about if not for two sources: Ginny and Longbottom.  Of course, knowing Ginny, it was impossible not to be aware of her hopeless infatuation for Harry.  As for Longbottom -

 

 “Prince - erm - I was wondering, well is there anyone you like?”

 

They were in Potions lab nine for one of their tutoring sessions, a cauldron sitting between them.  

 

 “Pay attention to the color of your brew, Longbottom, and  _ don't _ take your eyes off the flame.  I would prefer to go back to the common room alive and with my skin intact.”

 

 “I was paying attention!”

 

Callidus merely rolled his eyes, disbelieving Longbottom's excuses.  Fortunately, Longbottom had returned his attention to the potion that he was working on and they fell into silence.

 

 “And certainly there people I like,” Callidus eventually said. “People who have their wits about them.”

 

Longbottom frowned. “I didn't mean like that.  I meant -” he coloured, “girls and stuff.”

 

Callidus was incredulous.  “Don't you have  _ friends _ that you can discuss such matters with?” 

 

 “Well, there are a few fellows in Gryffindor that I speak to, but,” his brows furrowed, “I'm not really close to them. None of them have the same interests as me, and I don't have the same interests as them.  And it's not just that - sometimes, well, I just get the feeling that they don't have the patience for me.”

 

Callidus frowned. The last thing that he wanted was to have sympathy for the other boy.  He had more than enough Gryffindors in his life.  But the other boy was looking at him with an expectant expression, So Callidus eventually said: “No. I have no such feelings for anyone. Not in that regard.”

 

 “Oh.” Longbottom's lips drew downwards.  “I -”

 

 “Give your potion three linear stirs!” Callidus barked. When the potion emitted small swirl of green, Callidus nodded in satisfaction. “ _ Always _ mind the timer.”

 

After another long stretch, Longbottom said: “It's just that, well, there's someone I like.  Only, I don't know if they feel the same way and I was thinking, since Valentine's Day is coming up, maybe I could let them know?”

 

 “And who might this lucky soul be?” Callidus asked, lips twisted a sneer, and his tone edging towards cruel.

 

Somehow, Longbottom was completely oblivious to Callidus’s cues. “It's, well, Caiside.” He looked up at Callidus, pale eyes hopeful. “You know her, don't you?  I heard that you have some sort of relation.”

 

While Callidus wasn't surprised by Longbottom's revelation, he was surprised that Longbottom was willing to admit it to him.  Didn't the other boys know better than to lay his vulnerabilities on the table for others to dissect?  Callidus couldn't tell if this was Gryffindor bravery, or simply sheer stupidity. Perhaps it was an even mix of both. But while Callidus had no interest in Longbottom's life, the idea of being able to somehow needle Caiside was appealing. After all, Caiside was always needling him. Perhaps a little payback would do her good.

 

 “Add the pressed flitterbloom stamens.  You must do so when you see the brew bubbling. When the brew is dark, like this one is, you must pay particular attention to the surface.  See how it roils?” Callidus waited for Longbottom to complete his instructions. “And yes, Caiside and I are distantly related.” He gave Longbottom an assessing look, and a slow smile made its way across his face. “So you have developed an attraction for Caiside?”

 

The redness of Longbottom's round face mottled down his neck and up his ears.

 

 “Is it perhaps something to do with your shared interest in Herbology?”

 

Longbottom's eyes widened. “How did you know?”

 

 “How could I  _ not _ know,” he muttered. “So, what is it that you plan to do then, to make your feelings known?”

 

 “Should I? Make my feelings known that is.”

 

 “As you yourself said, Valentine's Day is coming up. What better time could there be for a dramatic revelation of your affections?”

 

Longbottom frowned. “Well, I wasn't planning anything  _ dramatic _ .  I was just thinking of sending her a nice letter or something. I thought, perhaps, I could try to write a poem, but I'm afraid that I'm not very good with words.”

 

 “A poem? But what could be better? Girls appreciate that sort of thing.”

 

 “Really? I thought so too, but I thought girls only liked, well, you know, nice - pretty poems.”

 

 “Girls are - sentimental creatures. I'm sure nothing stirs their heart like poetry.” It was an effort for Callidus to maintain a straight face as he thought about Caiside's reaction to receiving a poem.  She would probably be so mortified that she would try to feed it to her vicious plants.

 

 “You might be better off sending her the poem with the owl post so that you know for certain that she's received the message.” Callidus added.  That and if Caiside received the message in the Great Hall, that meant that Ginny and Hermione with see it as well. There be no escape for Caiside then.  He felt this muscles in his cheeks strain as he tried to hold back his amusement.

 

 “Huh.  Thanks for the advice. And thanks for listening to me. I really appreciate it you know.”

 

Callidus felt a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it away. It may not have been kind of him to use Longbottom in this way, but Gryffindors, or at least Callidus’s Gryffindor friends, were soft-hearted.  He knew that Ginny and Hermione would laugh at Caiside, but neither of them would use the information of Longbottom's infatuation to humiliate or hurt Longbottom.  Surely, there was no reason for guilt.

 

 “Will you help me write my poem?” Longbottom asked shyly, interrupting Callidus’s thoughts.

 

Callidus felt his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. This was getting better and better.  “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

 

Longbottom beamed, completely innocent and unsuspecting, and Callidus answered with a smile of his own, though his reasons for smiling had nothing to do with Longbottom.

 

It seemed that Longbottom wasn't the only person with poetry in mind. Callidus was in the abandoned fourth floor classroom with the Gryffindors, still preoccupied with reading about enchantments when he should have been revising, when he heard Ginny utter that very word.

 

 “I'm going to write a poem for Harry,” she declared, and unlike Longbottom, she was full of conviction.

 

Caiside frowned. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

 

 “Why wouldn't it be? My brothers told me that boys like receiving poems.”

 

 “Let me guess. It was the twins who told you this?”

 

Ginny's expression became uncertain.  “Well, yes?”

 

 “And you believed them?” Caiside asked, not bothering to mask her disbelief. “Knowing what they're like?”

 

 “You think it's a bad idea?  But - well, I already wrote a poem!  It took me ages to find the best rhymes.”

 

 “Let me see it.”

 

Ginny pouted, her expression becoming mulish. “Why should I let you see it? You may not even have the same taste as Harry.”

 

 “Same taste or not, I think I can determine good poetry from bad poetry.”

 

 “Oh yeah? How many poems do you read? Or write?”

 

Caiside scowled. “Fine. But at least show it to Cal. He knows Harry better than any of us. He could probably tell us if Harry would like it or not.  I just don't want you to embarrass yourself - or get hurt, you know?”

 

Ginny's expression became indecisive. “All right.” She pulled out a sheet of parchment from her book bag and slid it towards Callidus. 

 

Callidus just rolled his eyes. The girls didn't even bother to ask his permission, nor did they seem to care that he was busy reading his own book. But he couldn't help feeling curious about what Ginny had written to Harry, so instead of complaining, he picked up the parchment and began to read.

 

_ His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, _

_ His hair is as dark as a blackboard. _

_ I wish he were mine, he's really divine, _

_ The hero who conquered the Dark Lord _

 

Callidus slid the parchment back towards Ginny.  “No,” he said with absolute conviction.

 

Ginny knit her brows. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

 

 “I mean,  _ no _ .”

 

Caiside managed to pluck the parchment away from under Ginny's nose, her eyes rapidly scanning the page. “Oh, Merlin.  Ginny, listen to Callidus. Do not even _ think _ about giving this to Harry. I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it.  Merlin, I’d be scared to look at his face if he ever saw this!”

 

 “What you mean? I worked really hard on that!” she cried, as she snatched the parchment out of Caiside's hands, pressing the parchment face down as if she did not want anyone else to see.

 

 “I'm sure Ginny's poetry is perfectly nice,” Hermione defended.

 

 “That's because you’re the only one who hasn't read it,” Caiside retorted.

 

Hermione frowned before giving Ginny a gentle look.  “May I?”

 

Ginny sighed in resignation before giving the parchment to Hermione. As Hermione read the poem, the only words that escaped from her lips were: “Oh dear.”

 

 “What?” Ginny exclaimed. “What's wrong with it?”

 

 “Well, to begin with -” Hermione looked back down at the poem, “I’m not sure that Harry would be too pleased to have his eyes compared to a fresh pickled toad.”

 

It was an effort for Callidus to muffle his snort, and Ginny gave him a scalding glare.   
  


 “And -” Hermione looked over at Callidus, “perhaps bringing up the Dark Lord would only bring back unfortunate memories for Harry?  I’ve had time to think about such things since first year, and since getting to know Harry.  I think it would be better to show some - hmm - sensitivity?”

 

 “Oh.”  Ginny blinked.  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.  D’you really think it would upset him?”

 

 “It would be -”

 

 “Tasteless,” Callidus finished.  

 

Hermione handed the poem back at Ginny, and Ginny looked down at her own writing, her expression now filled with discontent.

 

 “What should I do then?” Ginny asked.

 

 “Nothing,” Callidus said, while Caiside recommended: “A card.”

 

 “A card?” Ginny echoed.

 

 “A card would be nice,” Hermione mused. 

 

 “But what should I say to him?”

 

 “Nothing, Callidus repeated, but the girls ignored him.

 

 “What do you like best about him?” Hermione asked.  “You can’t just like him because he defeated the Dark Lord.  What about his Quidditch skills?”

 

Ginny lit up.  Callidus thought it was a surprisingly good idea, but he did not say so out loud.  In fact, he didn’t see any point in involving himself with the girls’ silly infatuations, and returned to his reading instead.

 

If Callidus had thought that Valentine’s day would pass by like any other ordinary day, he was soon proven wrong.  As the trio entered the Great Hall on the fourteenth, they were quite stunned by the sight that met their eyes.  What they saw was a rather remarkable display of all the various shades of pink: pink flowers on the wall, pink decorations on the tables, and pink confetti hearts falling from the magical ceiling.  They made their way over to the Slytherin table, where a number of students wore expressions of open disgust on their face.  Many of the purebloods were likely accustomed to elegantly decorated social events.  Nothing about the Great Hall today could be mistaken for elegant.

 

 “What’s going on?” Harry asked the second years who were already seated.

 

Pansy’s eyes drifted over to the Head Table, and it was impossible to miss the sight of Lockhart, decked out in pink robes, and wearing a blinding smile on his face.

 

 “He’s such a handsome and charming professor.  I don’t understand how he thought this would be in good taste,” Pansy said woefully, as if Lockhart had personally disappointed her.

 

 “It's not so bad,” Greengrass said, though it looked like the words pained her to say.

 

 “I like it!” Bulstrode loyally declared.

 

 “Millie, darling,” Pansy began, about the correct Bulstrode for having atrocious taste, but she changed her mind and shook his head instead.

 

The owl post arrived, and Callidus looked towards the Gryffindor table, pleased to see that Caiside had received a letter.  He glanced towards Longbottom, and saw the other boy looking towards her hopefully.  But as the Great Hall filled with students, Callidus’s attention was soon to distracted by Lockhart, who had stood up and was looking extraordinarily satisfied with himself.  

 

Once Lockhart had the eyes of all the students in the Hall, he shouted:  “Happy Valentine's Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!”

 

This next part would have disgusted Callidus if not for the amusement he derived from watching the Slytherin girls’ expressions change from hope to horror. The betrayal on their faces was palpable and Callidus pressed his lips into a thin line to keep himself from bursting out into laughter.

 

 “My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart said, gesturing to the dozen of surly dwarves,  wearing golden wings and carrying harps.  “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Slughorn to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!”

 

Slughorn blushed, as if unable to decide whether he was more flattered or dismayed by the attention, while Flitwick buried his face in his hands.  The girls were all looking at Slughorn speculatively, wondering if he really could brew them up some Love Potions and Callidus’s amusement quickly turned to worry. What he thought would be an ordinary day was starting to look like it would be anything but.

 

The dwarves proved themselves to be extremely disruptive, barging into classrooms and generally have no regard for the looks of irritation or embarrassment sent their way. The trio soon learned (to Draco's delight and Harry's horror) that they had quite a number of admirers.  Callidus didn't realize that there were so many ways to describe ‘dark’ and ‘mysterious.’  Even more disturbing was the message that said: ‘Love heals all!  Let me be the one to cuddle you to happiness,’ as well as the one that said: ‘Be my Valentines and I'll do  _ all _ that you want. Dungeons of gloom are my favorite haunt. Nothing is better than three handsome snakes.  Let me be yours, and meet me by the lake!’  Suffice to say that none of them went down to the lake that day, though Draco tried to cajole them into going, if only to sate his curiosity.

 

 “Oh Merlin,” Harry moaned, as the trio made their way through the corridor between classes. “Not another one!  I  _ hate _ these stupid cupids!”  Harry quickened his pace, determined to get away.

 

 “Harry!” Draco called out.  “Where are you going!  I wanna hear what this one says!”

 

But Harry had heard enough Valentines for one day.  Aside from the ones addressed to the trio, he also had quite a few directed solely to him, and Callidus could see that Harry found it horribly embarrassing.  He dashed down the third floor stairs, and quickly turned a corner, Callidus trailing close behind.  

 

They had thought that they were safe, but as they ventured forward, they heard the gruff voice of a ‘cupid’ asking: “Oi! Has anyone seen 'arry Potter?  I'm looking for 'arry Potter.”

 

Harry paled.  Along the stretch of corridor, there was only one accessible room.  It was the girls' bathroom, though a sign that said OUT OF ORDER warned students away.  Harry expression was pained and indecisive, and Callidus of thought that Harry would turn around and head back the way that they came.  But Harry seemed to have come to a snap decision. He pushed open the door and went in, and after a moment of hesitation Callidus followed him.

 

 “What are you doing?” Callidus hissed. “Do you realize where we are?”  

 

 “I know,” Harry answered crossly.

 

But before Callidus could say anything more, a scandalized voice interrupted them.  “Who are you?  And what are you doing in the girls’ bathroom?”

 

Callidus and Harry stumbled back, not realizing that anyone had been in this bathroom and feeling mortified to have been caught.  But it wasn't a girl who was in the bathroom, it was a ghost.  Callidus vaguely recalled that there was a ghost that haunted one of Hogwarts bathrooms, but he couldn't remember the ghosts name.  Ghost could be incredibly unpredictable. For all they knew, she could fly out into the hallway and call the attention of the professors upon them, and then where would they be?

 

 “We're just trying to hide,” Harry said.  But as he got a closer look at the ghost, his eyes bulged.  “Have we - met?  You look - familiar.”

 

The ghost’s expression changed from sulky and hostile, to tentative surprise.  “I'm Myrtle.  You must’ve heard of me.  But then, nobody cares about me, do they?  Nobody cared even when I was alive!”

 

The name was familiar to Callidus.  It took him short seconds to remember. Moaning Myrtle. That was what she was called.

 

Though Harry was usually sympathetic, he was oblivious to the ghost’s lament.  “Where have I seen you?” he murmured. “This -” he cut himself off and began to look around.  “This place looks familiar.”

 

 “Harry?” Callidus said, uncertain.  But Harry was already walking towards the sinks, eyes wide as if seeing the bathroom for the first time.

 

 “Harry?”

 

 “It's here,” Harry said breathlessly.  “It's here!  It has to be!  I  _ know _ it!”

 

 “Your secret chamber?” Callidus asked, ignoring Myrtle who was crying: “Of course you’re both ignoring me.  Of course!  Let’s all ignore Myrtle.  I’m sure she doesn’t care at all!”

 

Harry nodded excitedly.  But before he could begin a close examination of the sinks, the pair of them heard Draco's voice out in the corridor calling their names.

 

 “Harry!  Callidus!  You bloody pillocks!  Where  _ are _ you?  We’re going to be late for class!”

 

Behind the irritation, Callidus could hear a hint of insecurity in Draco's voice.  In Harry's determination to get away from the 'cupids,’ they had forgotten all about Draco.  Not wanting to be late, Callidus tugged at Harry's robes, but his friend resisted.

 

 “Harry.  We'll lose points if we're late.”

 

But instead of relenting, Harry glared at him.  Surprised at the anger in the other boy’s eyes, Callidus released Harry’s robes.  He had just been trying to help.  What has he done to earn a look like that from Harry?

 

Irritated, Callidus couldn't help glowering at Harry as he said: “Fine. I'm leaving.” He turned away and pushed the door handle, but short moments later he heard footsteps behind him.

 

“Wait!”

 

Callidus paused.  He was vaguely aware of that Moaning Myrtle had departed to her stall, and her wails (“horrible, horrible boys!”) were echoing off the walls. 

 

 “I'm sorry. I guess I got over-excited. We'll come back tonight, yeah?”

 

 “Yeah,” Callidus answered, relieved that Harry was sounding more like himself.

 

It took most of the evening to sooth Draco’s temper, but once they finally managed to convince him that they hadn't deliberately abandoned him, he was just as excited as Harry about finally entering the secret chamber.

 

 “Is it really in the girls’ bathroom?” Draco whispered, as the trio trekked through the hallways that night, nearly invisible in the shadows. “Harry?” 

 

Harry was too busy scanning their surroundings.  After that incident with Filch and Mrs. Norris, he had been more reluctant to take chances.

 

 “Yeah, it is,” Callidus answered.

 

 “Why would anyone put the entrance of the secret chamber in the girls' bathroom?  It's hardly dignified.”

 

Callidus shrugged while Harry shushed him.  With the Camouflage Potion it was impossible to see Draco's glare, but Callidus could feel it all the same.  Callidus had been worried about the presence of Myrtle in the girls' bathroom, but when they finally crept through the bathroom door, she was nowhere in sight.

 

 “My mother's told me a few stories about Moaning Myrtle,” Draco remarked once the door closed behind them. “Said she's the most vexatious ghosts in Hogwarts.  Almost as annoying as Peeves.”

 

 “Yeah,” Harry absently agreed, more interested in the sinks than Draco's comments.  While Harry began to murmur “open” at the sinks, Draco and Callidus examined the rest of the bathroom.

 

 “What a dump,” Draco said disdainfully. “This is the one that always floods too. Never would have figured that the chamber would be in here.”

 

 “It's strange,” Callidus agreed. 

 

Since there was nothing to really look at, Callidus and Draco returned to Harry’s side. Harry was intently focused on the sinks.  There was nothing particularly interesting about the porcelain, nor the mirrors, nor the copper taps.

 

 “What are you looking for?” Draco asked.

 

 “I -” suddenly Harry inhaled sharply.  “Do you see that?” He pointed to the side of one of the taps, and as Callidus and Draco edged closer, they noticed the engraving of the tiny snake.

 

 “Open!” Harry insisted.  “Open!  C’mon, open up!”

 

But nothing happened.

 

 “Harry, are you sure -” however, Harry cut Callidus off.

 

 “Open!  Open dammit!”  Still nothing happened. 

 

Callidus and Draco exchanged a look, which was little more than a ripple in the shadows.  Callidus was about to suggest searching elsewhere, when a strange hiss escaped Harry's lips, and the sink began to vibrate and then move, sinking downwards and away to reveal a large pipe, the diameter easily the width of a man’s shoulders.

 

 “I was right,” Harry said, barely above a whisper.  “I found it!”

 

 “We're not really going down there, are we?” Draco asked, looking doubtfully down at the black gaping maw of the pipe.

 

 “Are you scared?” Harry replied, and although Callidus could not see the expression on Harry's face, a frisson ran down his spine.

 

 “Of course not!” Draco scoffed.  “But when you mentioned a chamber, I was expecting a chamber, not a pipe.”

 

 “The chamber is down there.  Either way, I'm going.” And without waiting for Callidus or Draco to protest, Harry slid down the pipe.

 

 “I can't believe -” Draco muttered, the rest of his sentence incomprehensible.

 

 “Indeed,” Callidus agreed. “He hasn’t even considered how we’re going to get back up.”

 

Callidus’s observation was met with silence, and he had a feeling that he had unsettled Draco.  But neither of them were about to leave Harry on his own, so they slid down the pipe one after the other.  The pipe followed a strange and curving path that seemed to make no architectural sense.  Only a magical school could have such convoluted plumbing.  The pipe was disgustingly damp and slimy, and Callidus could easily imagine Draco's horror.  But soon he had reached the end, which was brightly-lit thanks to Harry's  _ lumos _ .

 

 “It  _ was _ underground after all,” Harry said, just as Draco came flying out with a yelp from behind Callidus.  “C’mon.  Let's see what's up ahead.”

 

Neither Callidus nor Draco protested, but both of them felt the unease crawling through their guts, clamping around their ribs. This felt wrong. Nonetheless, each of them lit their wands, and followed Harry.  

 

The darkness down in these tunnels was oppressive, seeming to eat away at their faint wand light.  It made their camouflage seem like a dreadful thing, as if the darkness consumed more than the light - as if the darkness was consuming them as well.  All they could see down here was each others’  _ lumos. _ Callidus felt as if he may have as well have been alone.  Never had the absence of footsteps felt so isolating, so wrong.  He clung on to the sound of Draco and Harry's breathing.  He felt as if it was the only link to the world, the only thing keeping him sane, and he wondered if he wasn't asleep after all, having a nightmare that could crown all nightmares.  Why didn't either of them speak?  Why didn't  _ he  _ speak?

 

A loud crunch reverberated through the air, Callidus heard Draco say: “Oh Merlin - Merlin.” Beneath their feet were myriad small animal bones, like a macabre tableau of an open grave.  And  _ that _ was why Callidus didn't speak. 

 

 “We should head back, Harry,” Draco said, trying to feign conviction when all Callidus could hear was fear.

 

 “It's messier than I thought, but we can always clean it up later,” Harry answered, oblivious or perhaps insensitive to the emotion behind Draco's words.

 

 “I agree with Draco,” Callidus said.  “This is a foolish endeavour.  We don't know what might be down here.  And we have class tomorrow morning.”

 

 “If you two want to go back, I'm not going to stop you.”

 

 “Harry!” Callidus snapped, but the bite in his voice was meant to hide his own, ever-mounting fear. Thinking fast, he cried out: “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” and Harry's wand flew out of Harry's hand and into his own.

 

 “Merlin’s pants!” Harry exclaimed, shocked and angry. “Why did you do that? Give me back my wand!”

 

 “We're going back,” Callidus replied.  “All of us.”

 

 “You can't just take someone's wand,” Harry said, and heartbeats later, Callidus felt the air shift and he stepped backwards just as Harry lunged towards him.  He did not move fast or far enough, and Harry's weight knocked him over, causing him to fall upon the small bones with a terrible crackle.  Callidus tighten his grip on the two wands, while using his free hand to try to push Harry's weight off of him.  Near-invisible hands and limbs grabbed at him, elbows digging into soft spots, while his own near-invisible hand grappled in the darkness.

 

Callidus heard Harry cry: “Let go of me!” and felt Harry's legs kicking out, likely bruising him.  It took moments for him to realize that Draco was attempting to pull Harry off.

 

Somehow, despite the deficiency of clear sight, Callidus and Draco managed to pin Harry to the ground.  All of them were panting heavily, driven by adrenaline, limbs burning with exertion, and horrified by the situation they were in.

 

 “What's wrong with you, Harry?” Draco demanded. 

 

 “I - I -”

 

 “I understand that you're excited that we found the chamber, but it will still remain here whether we explore it today or some other day,” Callidus reminded him, his voice harsher than he intended.

 

Voice shaky, Harry said: “I - I don't know what came over me.  I just got so excited that we found the chamber.  I  _ know _ there's more.  We haven't even seen the half of it.  But, well, you're right.  This is so - so -” He let out a ragged sigh. “Just - let me up.  Please.”

 

 “You're not going to keep fighting us?” Draco asked.

 

 “No!” Harry burst out.  “No. I'm fine. I'm  _ fine _ .”

 

Callidus removed his weight from the body below him, and short moments later, Draco did the same.  After a brief and silent debate with himself, Callidus handed Harry back his wand.  The trio began to make their way back to the common room, and despite Harry’s submission to their will, the silence felt heavier than ever.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Flutterby is a bush that quivers and trembles

The trio did not speak of the previous night's events the next morning.  It was as though they felt that giving words to the night's strange actions would make it more real, and none of them wanted for it to be real.  It seemed like a temporary madness, as though some strange spectre had possessed them, and the rift that had occurred had nothing to do with themselves.  But there was no question that they would eventually return to the strange underground chambers.  Though Harry appear to be pale, he also seemed to hum with a barely suppressed energy, as if those twisting and turning pipes were calling out to him.

 

Throughout their classes, Harry seemed unfocused, despite the way that his body language gave the impression of a diligent student.  His eyes might have been fixed to the textbook in front of him, but anyone who was looking at him closely could see that his eyes weren’t moving across the page.  During Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry didn't seem bothered by Lockhart’s  self-aggrandizing ‘lesson’ (Lockhart’s self-confidence had the resiliency of the most tenacious weed).  Harry didn't even notice when Lockhart compared his own level of celebrity to Harry’s, nor the way statement had drawn the eyes of the other students, something which would have ordinarily had him gritting his teeth in irritation.  It was unsettling.  Callidus found himself exchanging glances with Draco.  For once, the two of them were in perfect accord. The only question was: which of them would confront Harry first. 

 

In the end, it was Draco. Perhaps it had to do with growing up rich and spoiled, but Draco never did have much patience.

 

 “Harry, about what happened yesterday -”  Draco darted a nervous glance towards Callidus, as if for support.

 

And Callidus, who was tired of dancing around the issue, said: “I think that pendant is changing you.”

 

Draco's eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”  But Harry already had his hand around the cord of the necklace and Draco soon caught on.  The blond turned towards Callidus, his expression accusing. “You think this is because of the pendant that I gave him?   I would never give Harry something that would cause him to act like this!  You're just jealous!”

 

 “I admit that I find enchantments fascinating, but jealousy has nothing to do with this.  Do you even know the specific enchantments that had been placed on that pendant?   You told us yourself that it was your father who had the pendant ordered.”

 

Draco crossed his arms. “My father wouldn't do something like this to Harry.”

 

 “Can you even define what this ‘something’ is?”  Callidus shot back.

 

 “Are you two going to just keep talking as if I'm not even here?” Harry cut in. “You know what? I've had all day to think about this.  Do you think I’d ignore the situation just because neither of you are talking about it?  Because I haven’t.  And I admit that yes, what happened was weird.  Really, really weird. Do you think I like this? Because I don't. But I really don't think it's the pendant.”

 

Callidus frowned.

 

 “But -” Harry continued, “since it bothers you so much, I'll take it off anyway.” And with that, he removed the necklace from around his neck and stuffed it in his pocket. “Happy?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes.  “This is ridiculous.  Are we supposed to assume that the problem is solved just because Harry has removed the pendant?” 

 

 “I suppose we'll find out soon enough,” Callidus replied. 

 

Though nothing had really been resolved, Harry's decision to take off the pendant seemed like a move in the right direction. And although the idea of exploring secret chamber still filled Callidus with a measure of disquiet, the light of day made the previous night's fears seem like a small thing, while curiosity stirred like a waking beast.   

 

Since neither Draco nor Harry had Quidditch practice after class, the trio agreed to venture down to the chamber after class.   In the light of day, it felt awkward to venture into the girls’ bathroom, whether it was out of order or not, but although it was unspoken, each of them preferred to explore the chamber during daylight hours than under the heavy pall of night.

 

They were standing in front of the sink, grateful that Myrtle was nowhere in sight, and Harry's brows were drawn together as he said: “Open!  Open!”  but for reasons he couldn't understand, the sink would not move.  Harry let out a huff of frustration, running his hand through his hair so that the black strands became even messier.

 

 “I don't understand this,” he said. “What's different? Does the chamber only open at night time?” 

 

 “I don't want to have to come back tonight,” Draco groused. “My skin looks terrible if I don't sleep.”

 

Harry ignored him.  “I'm pretty sure it was this sink.  This is the one with the little snake on it.   Open!  Augh! Open!”  A hiss of frustration slipped from his lips.  Moments later, the sink moved out of the way and revealed the pipe.  Harry blinked and then grinned, his frustration forgotten, oblivious the grimaces on Callidus’s and Draco's faces.  

 

When the three emerged at the bottom of the chamber, it was just as dark and oppressive as it had been the night before.

 

 “Oh, bloody hell,” Draco swore under his breath.  “It's even worse than I remembered.”

 

Harry answered with a grin.  “It’s not so bad.  C’mon.   Let's see where this goes.” 

 

They followed Harry along the tunnel, wands held high, and careful to pick their way around the animal bones that littered the floor.  But before long, they spotted a long and winding object on the ground in front of them.  Callidus, who had been calm mere seconds ago, felt the alarm bells in his mind begin to ring in shrill panic.  He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run, but he didn’t dare with his two friends nearby.

 

 “What's that?”  Draco asked, his voice nearly a squeak.

 

To Callidus’s and Draco's horror, Harry took a step towards it.  Merlin, it was a Gryffindorish level of recklessness and stupidity.  If Harry had been closer, Callidus would have grabbed at his robes to yank him away. But it was too late.

 

Harry crept closer to the long curved object and poked it with his foot, before looking back at his friends, a crooked smile on his face.  “It's just a snake skin.  Though I’ve never seen one that was green before.   Aren't snake sheds usually clear?”

 

Relieved that Harry was in no mortal threat, Callidus nodded. “Yes,” he said, barely able to keep the tremour from his voice.  “Except in the case of magical snakes.   Merlin.” He shook his head, still feeling shaky.  “Don’t ever do that again.  To be honest, I don't think I'm comfortable down here knowing that there is a giant snake slithering about. That thing looks to be at least twenty feet, and I rather value my life.” 

 

 “You think it's still alive?”  Draco asked, alarmed and stepping backwards.

 

Harry frowned.  “It looks pretty old. I'm sure we're fine. C’mon, let’s keep looking.  I'm pretty sure that we'd be able to outrun a snake.”

 

 “Harry!”  

 

But Harry was already walking ahead, unable to comprehend his friends’ fear.  Callidus looked over at Draco, and saw an anxiety in the blond’s eyes that mirrored his own.  But neither of them could let Harry go forward on his own.  Hating what was happening, they nonetheless hurried their steps to keep up. They turned a corner, until they eventually came to a dead end.  But the wall before them wasn't a pipe or section of tunnel.  Instead, the wall contained a carved relief of two entwined serpents.

 

Draco gasped.  “Are those emeralds?”  The three of them stepped forwards, and held up their lit wands.  And indeed, it appeared as if the serpents’ eyes had been set with large gleaming emeralds.

 

 “What is this place?”  Draco breathlessly wondered, echoing Callidus’s thoughts.  Harry only hissed, and as the serpent parted, Callidus suddenly had a feeling that Harry’s hissing was more than just a sound of excitement. The hissing had been too deliberate. It was almost as if he had been speaking to the wall.  But there was no time to think about this because Harry was already walking forward into the most remarkable space yet.

 

Fear now struggled with awe, but awe was winning.  The chamber had a ceiling that was at least as high as the one in the Great Hall - no, even higher for he could not make out the ceiling at all - and it was supported by pillars that were carved with coiling serpents. A greenish glow lit the vast space, making the chamber feel as familiar as the Slytherin common room. 

 

 “It's just like in my dreams,” Harry murmured, neck craned back as he tried to take in the details of his surroundings.

 

Callidus’s eyes widened. “ _ This _ is what you've been dreaming about?”

 

Harry's grin seemed to split his face.  “Yeah!  Except there’s more.  I  _ know _ there’s more!”

 

As the trio walked forward, Callidus heard Draco say: “This is unbelievable.”  And in truth it was. This was beyond anything Callidus could have imagined.  How could Hogwarts be harbouring a place like this without anyone knowing?  It almost reminded him of -

 

 “Merlin.”  Callidus halted in his steps.

 

Harry turned to face him.  “What?” 

 

 “Salazar Slytherin’s secret chamber.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened.  “You were thinking that too?”

 

 “What are you two talking about?”

 

 “There is a legend,” Callidus began, “that back in the days of the Founders, Salazar Slytherin had a falling out with the other three.  To protect the Slytherin ideals, he built the Chamber of Secrets.  There are other stories -”  Callidus knit his brows, “but most of them are hearsay.”

 

 “A lot of people don't think that the chamber's even real,” Draco added, “or at least people from the other Houses like to deny it. But Slytherins know better.” 

 

Harry's eyes were luminous, and the strange malachite light made his eyes appear unnaturally green.  “Do you really think this could be -” He seemed unable to finish the sentence and instead looked up at the carved snake columns that watched the trio with hollow eyes.

 

Neither Callidus nor Draco could answer Harry’s question.  They didn't know.  But Harry was too transfixed by this mysterious place, and continued to walk forwards.  They had reached the last of the snake-like columns, and at the end of the vast room was a statue so immense that it reached from floor to ceiling.  The head of the statue was so far up that the trio had to strain their necks to even see it.  But all of them recognized that ancient face with its long beard that very nearly reached the wizard’s toes.  It was Salazar Slytherin.  

 

 “Unbelievable,”  Draco said again. 

 

 “Yeah,” Harry agreed, and though Callidus wasn’t he facing him, he could hear the grin in Harry’s voice.  They fell into silence, as if this was all too much to take in.  When Harry had told them that he had been dreaming about a secret chamber, Callidus had imagined something like a classroom or if they were lucky, something the size of their common room.  But even during his wildest speculations, he couldn't have pictured anything like this. This space was vaster than the Great Hall.

 

 “We can practice our magic here,” Draco eventually said.  “We can, can't we?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I think so. If my dreams are any indication, then it's safe.”

 

 “Well, dreams led us here. We may as well try,” Callidus mused.

 

Harry lifted his eyebrows, and there was amusement in his voice. “Don't you want to explore first?”

 

Though Callidus knew that they could return at any time, something about this place made him feel like this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  The more he considered the situation, the more that he realized that this room was a cultural artifact. When was the last time that anyone had ever entered this space? If they revealed to the magical community that they had found Salazar Slytherin’s secret chamber, they would be famous. He was starting to feel overwhelmed. But Harry was right; exploring was a good idea.  The shining brightness in Draco's pale eyes indicated that the other boy agreed. Despite all that had happened this school year, despite the Orange Madness, and Callidus’s potion projects, and the trio's pranks, this felt like the most extraordinary thing that had occurred.  What might they learn? What secrets might this room reveal?   As the trio continued to explore the secret chamber, the snake skin was completely forgotten. 

 

 “Imagine what everyone will think of this place,”  Draco said breathlessly, after the trio had taken a turn around the vast chamber.

 

Callidus pursed his lips.  “ _ Are  _ we going to show everyone?  We haven't explored everything that's down here.   Do we really want everyone crawling about when we haven't even unearthed Salazar’s secrets?”

 

Draco's eyes widened.  “I hadn't even thought of that. What kind of artifacts do you think he had? Maybe his tomes and grimoires are down here. Just think of the spells and magic he must have accumulated. All that lost Founders knowledge.”  Draco look over at Harry.  “Did you dream of any artifacts?”

 

Harry furrowed his brow.  “I can't really remember. The dreams always seem really vivid, but when I wake up I forget a lot of the details.  But I knew for sure there was chamber.”

 

Draco hummed. “What do you think we should do?   Should we tell everyone? Or keep it to ourselves for now.”

 

 “Well, at first I thought about telling everyone. But maybe Callidus is right. If there are other secrets in here, then I really don't want anyone else to find them first.”

 

 “Yeah,” Draco said, “I agree.”  He scrunched up his face.  “Could you imagine? Us finding the chamber, and someone else finding all of Salazar’s secrets?  That would be intolerable. If anyone finds the secrets, it's going to be us.” 

 

Callidus and Harry nodded in reply. There was something thrilling about knowing they had some part of Hogwarts all to themselves - their own remarkable secret. Though Callidus had always wanted to gain admiration for his own merits, especially in potions, finding the secret chamber was its own accomplishment, and an awe-inspiring one at that. The fifth years may have claimed that he was no true Slytherin, but the fact that he was here proved them wrong. After all, what could be more Slytherin than uncovering Salazar’s long lost secrets? 

 

The trio spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening poking around in the secret chamber.  They didn't manage to find any artifacts or books, despite saying “open” to everything in sight. When they return to the common room that night, their hopes remain high, and when Pansy tried to pry the secrets out of them (she always did have a good intuition for when people were keeping secrets) the trio were gleeful about keeping her in suspense, much to her aggravation.

 

In the upcoming days, Callidus did not even reveal the presence of the chamber to his Gryffindor friends. He knew that it would interest them, and he knew that he could trust them, but they weren’t Slytherins, and he felt like telling them would be like betraying Salazar himself. Not even the temptation of being able to gloat about the amazing historical discovery could have induced him to tell the Gryffindors.   This was the trio's secret, and he meant to keep it that way. 

 

 “Caall-id-dus!” came Ginny’s sing-song voice, distracting him from his reading. “Did you ever see the poem that Neville wrote for Caiside?”

 

Callidus’s eyes slid towards Caiside, and he felt his lip pull upwards in amusement at the furious red flush that stained Caiside's cheeks.

 

 “Poem?” he said with false innocence, as Caiside exclaimed: “No!”

 

 “Yep!” Ginny said cheerfully.  “He wrote her a  _ luuuv _ poem.”

 

 “It was  _ not _ a love poem!” Caiside cried.  “It was just a few - rhymes.”

 

 “It was lovely,” Hermione interposed. “I never knew that Neville had a talent for words.  I never would have guessed it beneath his - well, shy exterior.”

 

Caiside glared at Hermione as if betrayed.  “I thought you were on  _ my _ side.”

 

Hermione’s brows drew together.  “I  _ am _ on your side!  It was a perfectly nice poem.”

 

 “‘Miiiione!”

 

 “It was!” Hermione defended.  “I’m sure Callidus would agree.”

 

 “Arrgg!!” Caiside exclaimed, while Ginny grinned triumphantly, handing Callidus a folded parchment (dyed a pale, leafy green).  After giving Caiside a merciless smile, he began to read.

 

_ The tremours of the Flutterby _

_ Though small and slight, it stirs my core; _

_ For in myself I see the same, _

_ Those quivers that the world abhors: _

_ The frailty of the tame. _

 

_ My pastimes live in deserts, bare _

_ Where trembling roots grasp only sand, _

_ And thirsting for a kindred flame _

_ For someone who will understand: _

_ Roots cannot grow if maim’d _

 

_ I wonder, do you feel as I? _

_ Or are these seeds in barren ground? _

_ And quailing like the Flutterby _

_ I almost fear to hear the sound, _

_ And yet I have to try. _

 

_ Is there a whisper of a hope? _

_ Is there a chance that I might grasp? _

_ Is friendship something that can grow, _

_ Like tendrils to a trellis, clasp’d, _

_ If I dare say: ‘hello?’ _

_ It’s this I long to know. _

 

Callidus blinked.  That was - far, far better than he would have expected from Longbottom.  When the other boy had mention that he wanted Callidus’s help to write a poem, Callidus had agreed, if only to irritate Caiside.  But life had gotten in the way; Callidus had far too many other things to worry about. So, he had offhandedly suggested that Longbottom should a research poetry in the library. He didn't realize the other boy would take his advice to heart. Despite the fact that Callidus found poetry to be ridiculous and overly sentimental, he felt a small flicker of admiration for Longbottom.  It wasn't Longbottom's words that he admired, but the spirit behind them. Gryffindor bravery might be ridiculous, but at times it yielded positive results.  And even if Longbottom might not have won Caiside's heart, he had still accomplished something.

 

 “Well?” Ginny demanded.

 

 “I’m - impressed.”  He handed the poem back to Caiside, who refused to take it, though Ginny folded it away for her.  “How fortunate you are to have such an eloquent admirer.”

 

Caiside scowled.  “Oh, shut up!  It’s not admiration.  He just wants to be friends.  What’s wrong with that?”

 

Callidus gave her a smug smile.  “Oh.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.”  And once he grew weary of Ginny rhapsodizing about how romantic it was, he returned to his reading.

 

He spent an increasing amount of time revising, aware that Hermione was doing the same.  He would never forgive himself if he let Hermione claim the top position in the majority of their classes.  But he also continued to read about enchantments, even though Harry had removed the pendant. 

 

It was during these readings at one of their later study sessions that he came across a particular enchantment that immediately stirred his interest.  As soon as he read the description, he had straightened up in his seat, convinced that the enchantment was of utmost importance to him.  But Callidus knew nothing about enchantments. He knew he was intelligent, but that intelligence meant he couldn't fool himself into thinking that he could accomplish something that was well beyond his capabilities. But even if Callidus couldn’t enchant for himself, it didn’t mean that he lacked options. 

 

That evening, as the trio continued to explore (and clean up) more of the chamber, Callidus stepped up to Draco's side and spoke.

 

 “Draco, about the pendant that you gave to Harry -”

 

Draco scowled.  “You're still convinced that that pendent has something to do with how Harry was acting?   Because he doesn't seem any different now that he's taken it off.”

 

Callidus shook his head. “No, I don't want to discuss that. Actually, I was wondering -”  he paused, “where did your father have the pendant made?”

 

 “Why? Planning to do some investigations?”

 

Callidus frowned at Draco's accusing tone. “No. I was thinking of having an enchantment commission for myself.” 

 

 “Oh? Changed your tune about enchantments?”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “It was never enchantments that I objected to.   I've been researching enchantments, and I found one that I think could help with potion making.  It's an enchantment that offers partial protection from anything that is ingested.” 

 

 “Do you really think you can afford to commission an enchanted item?” The question was asked with more doubt than scorn, so Callidus felt no offense. It was just Draco being Draco.

 

 “If you give me the name, then I can find out.” 

 

 “Hmm.” Draco compressed his lips into a line. “Well, this person isn’t someone who keeps a shop in Diagon Alley, if you know what I mean. You can't exactly send him an owl to inquire about prices.  You have to  _ know people _ .”

 

 “I know you,”  Callidus pointed out.

 

 “Yes, well, since we're both the stuck in school right now, I can't exactly skulk through Knockturn Alley, and vouch for you, can I?”

 

Callidus’s lips drew downwards. He wasn't about to ask Draco to ask his father for a recommendation.   But what other options did he have?  Who did he know, besides his friends and classmates?  But then it struck him.  Wystan! 

 

 “Can you just give me the name?”  Callidus entreated.

 

Draco huffed irritably.  “Fine.  Though I can't believe you want an enchantment after the big fuss you made about the one I gave Harry.” 

 

Callidus shrugged. “I may have been wrong.”  But he didn't think so, even if he also hadn't noticed any major changes in Harry.  Admittedly, much of his reasoning was due to stubbornness and not wanting to admit he was wrong.  Nonetheless, he was glad to have gotten the name from Draco, and thanked his friend, who simply rolled his eyes.  He would write a letter to Wystan as soon as he got back to the common room.  But Draco’s remarks had given him an idea.  Wystan had myriad connections. Why not see if he could find out any information about the pendant that Lucius had commissioned for Harry's?  He knew that it was unlikely that Wystan would learn anything, but it didn’t hurt to try.  Pleased with his course of action, he returned his attention to exploring the underground chamber, putting his mind towards discovering Salazar's ancient secrets.


	34. Chapter 34

It was nearing the end of February, which meant that the Slytherins had a Quidditch match coming up against the Ravenclaws.  And just as with their first match, Flint was demanding all of Harry's and Draco's time.  The sense of rivalry may have been strongest between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but Slytherins still felt an innate drive to win.

 

Harry’s and Draco’s preoccupation meant that Callidus was spending more time with the Gryffindors.  It also meant that he could focus more of his attention on trying to recreate the potion that Longbottom had accidentally ingested that caused his magic to be so visible. In the past month, Callidus found his patience with Longbottom increasing, telling himself that it was easier to be forbearing when Harry and Draco were so busy, and not wanting to admit even to himself, that Longbottom was rather likeable. Yes, Longbottom potion skills were abysmal, but that only meant that when Callidus finally drove the basic concepts into Longbottom's thick skull, the rush of accomplishment was immense. Who knew that teaching could be rewarding? Was this why his adult self had decided to become a teacher? Maybe there was some merit to the idea after all, but Callidus’s dream was still to become a renowned potion master. Perhaps he could consider indulging in teaching after he retired from a life of fantastic discoveries (and maybe even a measure of fame?)

 

Whatever strange potion it was that Longbottom had accidentally created, Callidus knew it wasn't a dead end. Even with only a fraction of the ingredients in place, the potion was able to enhance the visibility of magic.  Testing the experimental brews on a common magical beetle found in the Forbidden Forest, the potion changed the creature’s magic from a transparent wavering, to yellowish-green semi-transparent wavering.  But while it may have been enough for a dabbler in potions, Callidus was no dabbler.  He wanted - needed - to recreate Longbottom’s full potion.  He wanted to make magic visible with dazzling clarity, like what he had seen that day when Longbottom tripped and fell in front of his lab.  The magic that day had been beautiful.  He could admit that much, if only to himself.  And even if Longbottom had been the one to accidently make and ingest the potion, it didn’t mean that it was any less of Callidus’s discovery.  Did it?

 

 “Caiside said ‘hullo’ to me in the hall today,” Longbottom said, after setting down the stirring rod for his potion.  Before Callidus could remind him that he needed to immediately lower the heat, Longbottom had already done so.  He was almost tempted to praise the other boy.  Instead, he pursed his lips, and tried not to smile.

 

 “Did she?”

 

Longbottom was too diffident to meet Callidus’s eyes, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in his voice.  “Yeah.”

 

 “That’s - good.”

 

Finally, Longbottom looked up towards him.  “You think so?  You speak to her.  Did - did she like my poem?  I meant to ask you sooner, but I was -” his face reddened and he looked away.

 

 “Your poem was - adequate.”

 

 “Adequate?” his lips twisted downwards.

 

 “Your poem was well written.”

 

Longbottom’s eyes grew large.  “You read it?!”

 

Was he not supposed to have admitted that?  And why was he so concerned about Longbottom’s silly feelings anyway? “I thought it showed skill and potential.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

Longbottom’s flush deepened. He looked upset and Callidus struggled to figure out what he had done wrong.

 

 “Add the sliced stems now!” he reminded the other boy, who was quick to obey.

 

After an especially nerve-jittering stretch of silence, Longbottom finally spoke, his voice clipped.  “I didn’t realize she would share that poem with  _ everyone _ .  She must think it’s all a big joke.” 

 

Longbottom’s feelings were finally making some sense.  “You mistake the situation,” Callidus said.

 

 “How?” Longbottom asked, lips drawn down in doubt.

 

 “They’re girls.  Their minds are incomprehensible brambles of illogic.”

 

 “Girls are just as intelligent as we are!”

 

 “I didn’t say that they weren’t.  I’m well aware of the brilliance that some girls possess.”

 

 “Then what’s your point?” Longbottom wondered, his vexation overcome by insecurity.

 

Callidus sighed. “The girls can’t seem to help nosing themselves into other people’s business.  I received the distinct impression that Ginny snatched your card away from Caiside before she could stop her.”

 

 “Oh.” He fidgeted with his hands, abashed.  “So -” he peeked at Callidus, “you really think I have skill and potential?”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes, keeping his attention on Longbottom’s brew.  “Don’t start getting a big head about it.  And -” but he cut himself off as Longbottom added the next ingredient to the potion without being reminded.

 

 “You know,” Longbottom eventually said, “I used to have this idea that Slytherins were all evil.  Not that I’m referring to you, though!”

 

Callidus merely raised his eyebrows.

 

 “But in general,” Longbottom continued.  “It’s just how people talk about Slytherins, you know?  I always hear Ron mumbling about ‘evil gits’ and I know -” he coloured and gave his head a shake, “yeah - anyway - what was I saying - er - I guess I’m just glad to know that I was wrong?”

 

 “All right,” Callidus said, starting to feel uncomfortable with Longbottom’s emotional sharing.

 

After Longbottom stirred the potion the required number of times, he turned off the flame.  “Anyway, I was just thinking - um - I’ve really appreciated your help.  Maybe I could show you some of my plants?  Like - for you to use in potions - and - er - stuff.”

 

 “I suppose -”

 

Longbottom brightened.  “Would you want to come out to the greenhouses with me and see some of the side projects I’m working on?”

 

 “What?” Callidus squawked (not that he’d ever tell anyone that he squawked - and already, he felt himself heating up, mortified.)  “No!”

 

Longbottom paled, eyes wide and wounded, and he looked away.  Callidus’s guilt seemed to multiply like a cancer, scrabbling up his throat and choking him. But Longbottom was already finishing the last steps of his potion and stoppering it, and soon, Callidus wouldn’t have to deal with the other boy for the rest of the evening.

 

He wasn’t close enough to Longbottom to explain to him the situation with the fifth years.  He couldn’t tell Longbottom that it wasn’t anything personal - it was just that Longbottom was a Gryffindor.  Callidus didn’t want to project weaknesses and vulnerabilities to his House mates.  But these were his thoughts, not his words.

 

When Longbottom was finally finished, he packed up his bags without a word and dragged his feet to the door.

 

Callidus stood and followed.  “I’ll see you next Monday?” Callidus said, cringing when it came out more like a question than a statement.

 

 “Huh?  Oh.  Er.  Yeah, I guess.  See you Monday.”

 

When Longbottom was gone, Callidus leaned his forehead against the closed door, wondering why he felt so wretched.  Stupid, stupid Longbottom.  This was all his fault.  And what was the big deal anyway?  He had just refused Longbottom’s offer.  That didn’t mean that he  _ disliked _ the other boy.  He sighed.  Perhaps he would tell Longbottom next week that it was nothing personal.  Maybe he could make an excuse and say he was too busy with revising.  Thus decided, the dark pall of his mood lifted, and he didn’t even question why he felt the need to make excuses to Longbottom in the first place.

 

-o-

 

It was finally the day of the Quidditch match, and though Harry and Draco had been anticipating a cloudy but dry day, it turned out to be thick with a damp mist.  It was terrible weather for Quidditch.  No one would be able to see anything.  But apparently, it wasn’t bad enough to cancel the game, and since February lacked entertainment, the turnout in the Quidditch stands was high.  Callidus found a seat next to Pansy and Blaise.

 

 “ _ Cal _ !” Pansy greeted as he sat down, eyeing his appearance.  “Just because the weather is dreadful, it doesn’t mean that you should neglect your hair.  You look  _ so much _ better when your hair is nice.  Nice enough that I’d even consider dating you!”

 

Blaise snorted.  “No you wouldn’t, Pansy.  The only people you’d consider dating are loaded with galleons.  The bigger the bank vault, the better.”

 

Pansy hummed.  “You’re right, darling.”  She turned to Cal.  “If you get rich, I’d consider dating you.”

 

Callidus rolled his eyes.  “How flattering.”

 

Pansy gave him a cat-like smile.  “I know.” Pansy began to complain about the weather for a little while longer, but soon, Madam Hooch’s piercing whistle drew their eyes down to the green.

 

 “And they’re off!”  The announcer, Lee Jordan, declared.  “The fog is awful, folks, but that isn’t going to stop  _ our _ players!  And it looks like Marcus Flint has got the quaffle, and he’s swooping down and fast!  He evades the Ravenclaw defense - throws - and -  _ great save _ , by Grant Page! Ravenclaw’s very talented keeper!  Those were some lightning fast reflexes!”

 

Callidus shook his head.  Even when the Gryffindors weren’t playing, Jordan couldn’t be bothered to rein in his bias.  But it hardly mattered.  The Slytherin team was a strong one, and they still had the advantage of the new brooms that Draco’s father had ‘donated’ at the beginning of the term.

 

After the first hour and a half, the game was starting to look like a slaughter, with Slytherins leading the way.  But with the fog remaining stubbornly dense, neither Harry nor Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, were able to catch sight of the flash of gold that indicated the presence of the snitch.

 

The chasers and even the beaters on both sides were starting to sustain more injuries.  With the poor visibility, both sides were failing to see the bludgers until it was too late, and it was only sheer chance that no one had been severely injured.  In the stands, he could hear the murmurs of the other students as they speculated whether the game would keep going, or be cancelled.

 

But after another half-hour had passed, there was a sharp movement from Chang, followed by Harry a split second later.  They had spotted the snitch!  The crowd, which was starting to grow restless from the cold and the inability to see anything quieted, and sat forward with intense anticipation.  The game might be slaughter so far, but the Slytherin score wasn’t quite high enough for the team to win if Chang happened to catch the snitch.  The game could very well come down to the seekers.

 

Harry and Chang kept close to one another, and in the mist, Callidus had the impression that Harry had slammed against Chang once or twice, flying with an aggressiveness that would have made Flint proud (or if not proud, then at least satisfied).  It was only the mist that saved Harry from being served a foul call.  The seekers turned a sharp angle, lifting upwards as they mimicked the movements of the snitch.

 

Distantly, he was aware of Jordan saying: “Malfoy has got the Quaffle!  And - oh!  Slytherins score!  Again…” but the actions of the chasers and keepers no longer interested him.

 

Harry and Chang arced downwards, both pushing themselves to the extent of their abilities; Chang because she knew that the hopes of the team rested on her, and Harry because he was a Slytherin, and couldn’t let his team lose.  They were flying into the middle of the fray, and instead of clear and open space, both of them now had to dodge the other players, the stands, the goal posts, and the bludgers.

 

Harry was a hairsbreadth ahead, his arm already outstretched towards the golden ball.  He was so close.  So fixated.  And Callidus watched with growing horror as he realized his friend was oblivious to the bludger that was flying towards him, slicing through the mist like a knife ripping a veil.  Callidus’s mouth had formed a silent ‘no’ - there was no way he could warn his friend.  He was no longer watching to see if Harry would close his fingers around that tiny ball - all he could do was will and wish that Harry would change his angle, that Harry would fly faster or slower, that Harry would do  _ anything _ other than try and grab the snitch.  But it was no use, and the crowd gasped as the bludger slammed into Harry, knocking him off his broom.

 

Callidus was already on his feet, dashing down the stairs of the stands and towards the green.  There was a crowd gathering there, but Callidus only wanted to know that Harry was all right, to be able to still the jangling fear that threatened his mind.  He shoved past the milling students and players, and spotted the beacon of Draco’s bright hair.  His friend was on his knees, half-supporting Harry’s weight.  From the scrunched expression of pain on Harry’s face, he immediately knew his friend was alive, and that once Madam Pomfrey arrived, Harry would be okay.

 

 “No need to worry!” a voice cried, and the tension that was flowing out of Callidus immediately returned.

 

 “Stay away from him!” Draco warned, his eyes flashing up at Lockhart who was already by the boys’ side.  

 

 “Now, now, I know you’re worried for your friend so I won’t take offense, but it’s a simple charm that I’ve used countless times.”

 

Callidus was already reaching for his wand and sprinting towards his friend, prepared to stand up to the persistently aggravating Lockhart, but he wasn’t fast enough.  He saw Draco’s eyes widen in horror, saw Harry blink in confusion, and then Lockhart was looking sheepish, and taking steps backwards as he made his excuses.

 

Callidus saw red.  At the moment, he could have  _ killed _ Lockhart.  But Harry was far more important, and it was clear that there was no way that Harry could walk to the infirmary on his own.

 

 “I’ll call for a stretcher,” Callidus said to Draco and Harry, and Draco, whose expression was shell shocked, looked up at him, and nodded helplessly.

 

With the help of Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick (who had come to watch his House play), they managed to safely transport Harry to the infirmary.  Callidus didn’t relax until Madam Pomfrey had emerged, clucking over Harry’s state, and reassuring everyone that he would be fine, and she had mended his punctured lungs (though he would have to spend the  _ entire _ weekend in the infirmary re-growing his rib bones which had been vanished).  That was what had happened?!  Callidus hadn’t even realized it at the time, and fury once again chased away relief as he thought about all the terrible things he wanted to do to Lockhart.  Judging from Draco’s expression, his friend felt the same way.

 

They stayed with Harry for as long as they were permitted to, but when Harry’s eyes began to droop, Madam Pomfrey shooed them off.  As Callidus and Draco walked back down to the common room, they plotted the myriad ways in which they could turn Lockhart’s life into a living nightmare.  But as Callidus entered through the passageway into the Slytherin common room, he was caught off guard by the raucous celebrations.  He distantly remembered Harry making a comment about finally catching the snitch, but he had been so concerned about Harry’s well-being that it hadn’t fully registered.  Slytherins had won.

 

But neither Callidus nor Draco were in the mood for celebrating.  After Draco accepted congratulations from their House mates (with much less enthusiasm than normal), they retreated into the quiet sanctuary of their dorms.

 

It didn’t occur to Callidus until was in bed that night that he would be essentially be spending the entirety of his Sunday with Draco.

 

-o-

 

 “Want to go see Harry?”  It was the first thing that Draco said that morning, after getting dressed, and before going down to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

 

Callidus looked over at Harry's empty bed, a small wrinkle between his brow. “Are you sure he's awake?”

 

 “Oh. Good point. Let's go after breakfast then.”

 

Callidus nodded.

 

The Great Hall was usually sparsely populated on weekend mornings, and today was no different. Of the second years, only Bulstrode was sitting at the table, and she grunted a nod when she spotted them. They ate relative silence.  And Callidus didn't know if it was in his head, but from the slight fraying of his nerves, it felt awkward. Had Callidus and Draco always relied on Harry to be the glue in their relationship?

 

 “Something is different,” Bulstrode suddenly said, once her plate was cleared of food. “You guys are different today.”

 

 “Well, we  _ are  _ absent Harry,” Callidus pointed out.

 

Bulstrode rolled her eyes. “I  _ know _ .  I'm just saying you’re acting different.  It's weird.  Really weird.”

 

Callidus and Draco exchanged a glance.  They weren't sure of how to respond to that, so in the end they didn't. 

 “When is Harry going to be out of the Infirmary?” Bulstrode asked.

 

 “By tonight I imagine,” Draco answered. “I hope.”

 

Bulstrode blinked. “I hope so too. Then you two can stop being so weird.”

 

It was a relief to finally finish breakfast, so that they could go up to the infirmary and see Harry. Unfortunately, when they got there, they learned Harry was sleeping.  And when Draco began to bombard Madam Pomfrey with demanding questions, she grew irritable and insisted they leave, lest they “disturbed the patients,” adding: “You can come back this evening.  Ah!” she held up a hand to cut off Draco’s interruption. “Skele-gro is hard enough on the system when it’s just limbs.  But Mr Potter is re-growing several ribs.  He’ll be asleep most of the day.” 

 

She shooed them out with a hand firmly pushing at their backs, and shut the door behind them, ignoring Draco's sputtered protests.  The sight of that closed door caused Draco to flush red with ire.

 

 “The nerve of that woman!” 

 

As much as Callidus had wanted to see Harry, Draco’s indignation amused him, and a snort of laughter escaped his lips.

 

 “What! Do you think this is funny?”

 

He tried to bite back his grin. “Somewhat?”  Only to burst out in laughter, his black strands of hair falling across his face as his body helplessly shook.

 

Draco narrowed his eyes, his hands balled into fists, but then he suddenly relaxed and shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “This is ridiculous.  C’mon.   Let's get out of here.”

 

Callidus gave Draco a wry smile.  “All right.”

 

Their first thought was to go down to the secret chamber; it was what they did every weekend (and most weeknights) since they had found it. But when they slinked into the girls’ bathroom, Moaning Myrtle was there. She shrieked when she saw them, crying out: “Horrible boys!  You horrible boys are back!  Come to mock poor me, have you? Come to call me names and make me cry?” 

 

As much as both of them wanted to go down to the secret chamber, neither of them wanted to deal with Moaning Myrtle.  Better to hightail out of there, than to deal with an emotional and hysterical ghost.  Only problem was - 

 

 “What do we do now?” Draco asked, brows puckered and lips pouted. 

 

 “Study?”

 

Draco scrunched up his face.  “Are you kidding?  No, wait, this is you.  Of course you’re not kidding.  Uugh, I know I  _ should _ , but I don’t want to!  Besides, the common room is too distracting.  Pansy’s always nattering away about this or that, and Greengrass has that terrible high-pitched laugh, and the first years -” he shuddered, “were we that awful as first years?  No.  We couldn’t have been.  Besides, I’m a Malfoy.  I was never that undignified.  I’m sure of it.”

 

Callidus smirked and shook his head.  “I know of a quiet place we can study.  Hermione and that lot use it, but I think they spend most weekends in the library.”

 

Draco groaned.

 

 “You may as well get it over with.  Harry and I both know how exacting your father is about your grades.”

 

Draco threw back his head and groaned again. “Uugh!  Why do you have to be so right?” 

 

Callidus only smiled and shrugged.  After gathering their satchels, Callidus led Draco up to the empty fourth room classroom.  And while Draco continued to grumble and gripe, he eventually mustered up his concentration, and the pair of them were able to finish a reasonable amount of work. 

 

Callidus was reading through their Defense course book, mentally cursing Lockhart’s uselessness for missing so much of the material, when Draco interrupted his thoughts.

 

 “Ever feel like - it’s hard to meet people’s expectations?”

 

Callidus furrowed his brows, glancing up from his book. “Pardon?”

 

 “Ever feel like -”

 

 “Yes, I heard.  But what do you mean by ‘people?’”

 

Draco pursed his lips.  “You know - people -”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  “Why would I care what people think?  I plan to prove my worth.”

 

 “Well -” Draco bit down on his lip, “maybe not  _ all  _ people.  I certainly couldn’t care less what some random muggleborn thinks about anything.  I mean, people close to you.  Authority figures.  Parents, and such -” he waved his hand in a false-casual gesture.

 

Callidus paused.  “Are you talking about your father?”

 

Draco looked away.  “If I am?”

 

Callidus hummed.

 

 “It’s just that, well, I can usually talk to Harry about anything,” Draco explained.  “Everything.  But - when I bring up my father, I can’t stop thinking about how Harry doesn’t have a father.  He thinks he hides it well, but he gets this look in his eyes, sometimes.  A sort of sad look.  Wistful?  Yeah, that’s it. He gets all wistful.  And I - I just can’t.  I can’t bring myself to whinge about my father when Harry doesn’t even  _ have _ a father.  I’m fortunate in a way that he’ll never be.”

 

Callidus blinked, surprised.  That was remarkably considerate of Draco.  He didn’t realize Draco had it in him to be quite that thoughtful.  Though it occurred to him that his thoughts were rather unkind.  Draco was spoiled and at times, a prat and a pain in the arse, but he was also a good friend.

 

 “I understand.”

 

Draco’s expression held a hint of hope.  “You do?”

 

Callidus nodded.  “My father is - dead now, but -” He pulled his brows downwards, as he brought forth the memory of Tobias Snape’s angry and drunken face, “his presence was oppressive.  Nothing was ever good enough - normal enough for him.”

 

 “I don’t know if I’d call my father  _ oppressive _ .  And I know my father doesn’t want me to be  _ normal _ , Merlin forbid!  I just -” Draco huffed, and slumped his shoulders. “I wonder how I can live up to the Malfoy name, sometimes.  We can’t be  _ normal _ ; we must be  _ extraordinary _ .  I mean, I’m sure I’ll be able to do it.  I’m  _ already  _ extraordinary  _ and _ I’m a Malfoy!  But -” he compressed his lips and looked over at Callidus, “then you and Hermione came along, and impressed all the professors, and got top marks in all the classes.  I mean, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it was just you.  But - Hermione?  She isn’t even -” he cut himself off, almost quivering with frustration.

 

Callidus was struck by a flash of insight.  His mother had been a pureblood, but his father had been a muggle.  He had thought he understand why purebloods valued their culture - why they preferred to keep to their own kind.  But he realized that despite his mother’s teaching, in some awful way, he was still his father’s son.  Callidus couldn’t fully appreciate what it was like to be raised a pureblood because he wasn’t one.  So while Callidus could easily accept Hermione, Draco’s whole upbringing had primed him to be opposed to her, and everything she represented. What would Draco had been like if he hadn’t been friends with Callidus and Harry?  The first thing that popped into his mind was a female version of Greengrass, and Callidus shuddered.

 

 “I sometimes think it’d be so much easier to be you or Harry,” Draco continued, and though Callidus raised his eyes at Draco’s complete lack of self-awareness, Draco was oblivious.  “Even if neither of you are purebloods, and I can’t imagine having tainted -” he cut himself off, eyes wide, “I didn’t mean that in  _ that _ way.  That’s just how everyone talks.  But neither of you have to think about your lineage.  You don’t have to think so hard about who you speak to, and how you speak to them.  Neither of you seem particularly intent on making people fear you.  Well, okay, maybe  _ you _ do, but Harry certainly doesn’t.  Sometimes, I even get the impression - with Harry at least, but you as well - that you don’t even think about social exchanges in terms of giving and receiving favours!  It doesn’t make sense!  And you don’t have to think about centuries of  _ tradition _ .”

 

 “Harry is the last of the Potters.  And I’m the last of the Princes.”

 

 “But it’s not the same!  It’s -” he knit his brows as he tried to find the right words.

 

 “Your father?”

 

Draco exhaled heavily, running his hands through his hair before he realized he was mussing it up.  “Yeah.  Why am I even talking about this?  It’s stupid.  I’m a Malfoy.”  He paused, brooding, before straightening up in his seat.  “Do you suppose Harry’s awake yet?  Let’s go find out.”

 

Callidus gave Draco a long look before shrugging and packing up his bags.  If Draco didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t push him.  But the conversation had given him an insight into Draco that he didn’t have before.  How much of Draco’s cocksure nature was just a front for an underlying insecurity? 


	35. Chapter 35

_ I apologize about my delayed reply _ , Wystan wrote.  _  Can it really be March already?  I bet you’re already revising, aren’t you?  I wish revising was all I had to worry about.  I know it seems stressful when you’re still in Hogwarts, but now that I’m out in the so-called ‘real world,’ life at Hogwarts seems so much easier.  I envy you.  I really do. _

 

_ I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with what’s reported in the  _ Prophet _?  To be honest, as hyperbolic as the newspapers are, none of them can fully express just how awful it is.  Those little moments of connection that used to make up our lives?  Those smiles and nods that we gave to our neighbours?  Gone.  Friendly get-togethers?  No one wants to have them anymore.  The shops?  Empty.  Everyone orders everything by owl-post nowadays.  No one wants to go out.  It’s - well, honestly, it’s just lonely.  I have Calypso, of course, and she’s a comfort.  And I have FLAME to manage as well.  But I’m starting to feel like we’re stuck here, on an island, with no one to hear our lonely calls (aren’t I poetic?) _

 

_ And yes, it seems like the Orange Madness is only getting worse.  You truly are fortunate in Hogwarts.  And while there have been a few purebloods that have been affected, no one pays attention to those cases.  Everyone calls it a muggleborn disease.  The mindset is toxic.  _

 

_ But not all is bad, I suppose.  I saw your opinion pieces in the  _ Prophet _.  You know, it’s actually swayed a lot of minds, and they’ve put off that vote on the Muggleborn registry. _

 

Callidus knit his brows.  Opinion pieces?  But then he remembered: he had let Hermione make use of his surname to write to the  _ Daily Prophet _ .  He had nearly forgotten about that (and he never cared to read opinion pieces).

 

_ Opponents are saying that more research is needed to test the Muggleborn-disease link before doing anything so drastic as a registry _ , Wystan continued _.  Frankly, I agree.  The registry is pure fear mongering.  It’s disgusting. _

 

_ Anyway, I haven’t had time to looking into those enchantment commissions for you.  Not yet.  Things are far too busy right now.  I mentioned some of my suspicions about the Orange Madness, yeah?  We haven’t reached any firm conclusions yet, but the more I learn, the more I suspect that it isn’t a natural disease.  But what to do with this information, I’m not certain yet. _

 

_ I’ll ask about the enchantments when I have the time.  In the meantime, stay safe, _

 

_ Wystan _

 

Callidus drew his brows together in contemplation, rereading sections of Wystan’s letter before folding it up and tucking it into his pocket. He peered over at Harry.  His friend’s expression was bleary, as if trying to eat breakfast was stretching the limits of his mental capacity.  Harry didn't look in Rowle’s direction once, which was unusual. As for Rowle, she seemed subdued, lips pursed unhappily, but Callidus didn't care enough about her personal life to determine why. 

 

Surreptitiously, he glanced towards the Gryffindor table.  Hermione was intent upon the  _ Daily Prophet _ , absorbing the news as if her very well being depended on it, and perhaps it did. Ginny I was giggling, while Caiside smirked, but Callidus wasn’t interested in the girls.  His eyes slid towards Longbottom, who was seated near the other boys in his house, together and yet looking somehow apart.  Longbottom had cancelled their previous tutoring session, claiming that he hadn't been feeling well.  Would he make the same excuse tonight?  A sense of guilt still wormed about in Callidus’s chest, and as much as he tried to distract himself with school work and other matters, a dismal feeling persisted in followed him.  Callidus sighed, but no one noticed. They probably assumed his gloomy mood was due to schoolwork or potions, and it was probably better that way. 

 

The school day passed slowly.  Even humiliating Lockhart had grown wearisome yet again, and nothing that Lockhart had done lately could rival the ridiculousness of Valentine's Day.  By the time they were finished their final class, Callidus wasn't certain whether he was glad the day was over, or whether he wished he had a few more classes if only to avoid his confrontation with Longbottom.  Why did he even care about Longbottom's stupid feelings?  It was inevitable that someone so sensitive would be hurt.  Callidus had probably done him a favour by showing him just how harsh the world could be. Perhaps if he told himself that three or four more times, he might start to believe it. 

 

The trio descended one of the many staircases, on their way to the entrance of the secret chamber when a wail reverberated through the corridors, causing Callidus’s hair to stand on end.  The trio exchanged glances.

 

 “Let’s take a look,” Harry said. “Someone might need our help.”

 

 “Are you  _ serious _ ?” Draco moaned, though both Callidus and Draco knew very well that Harry was indeed quite serious. “We should just leave it to the professors.  What if someone has the Orange Madness again?  It isn’t  _ our _ job to take care of  _ their _ problems.”

 

Callidus shivered.  Draco’s words felt like a premonition.

 

 “Yeah, but we have friendliness bombs,” Harry argued.

 

 “And we’ve never tested them on people who are infected,” Callidus pointed out.

 

 “No time like the present, then!” Harry retorted, venturing off in the direction of the wails before Callidus and Draco could argue further.

 

After shooting Harry an irritated look, Draco quickened his steps to follow, and Callidus, who matched his steps, heard him mutter: “When will Harry learn that not everyone deserves help.”

 

 “Only those who can afford it?” Callidus drawled.

 

Draco gave him a quick look before saying:  “Or those who have  _ some  _ concept of debt.” He shook his head.  “What would Harry do without us to watch out for him?”

 

But before Callidus could answer, there was another wail, that turned into to teeth-clenched moan.  Callidus and Draco turned a corner, nearly walking into Harry who had halted in his steps.  There was a group of students surrounding someone who was huddled on the floor.  Several other students were drawing closer, attracted by the strange noise, but many others were running away.

 

 “- might be someone who’s infected,” Callidus heard someone say.  “Get out of my way!  I’m not staying here!”

 

Callidus saw Draco tugging on Harry’s sleeve, grip tight enough that his knuckles were white.  “Harry.  We should leave.”

 

 “We can’t use the friendliness bomb with this many people nearby,” Callidus said.  

 

 “Someone, call for a professor!” a voice called out.  It was alarming enough that many of the other curious students began to back away, the urgency finally overcoming their curiosity.  

 

 “Nnngh - d-don’t come n-near me!  Aarrhnnnngg!” 

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  He recognized that voice.  It sounded like -

 

 “Longbottom?”  Without realizing it, he had pushed his way forward.  His eyes widened when he saw the familiar round-faced boy crouched on the floor, hands gripping tufts of his hair as if by doing so, he could keep a grip on his own mind.

 

 “P-Prince?  Nnngh!  Get away!!  I-I-I’m not right!  G-Get Away!”  Longbottom leapt up with alarming speed, his eyes wild, but instead of lunging forward, he slammed himself backwards against the wall with enough force that Callidus could hear the air leaving his lungs.

 

He felt something wrenching his robes  “Callidus!  Let’s get out of here!” Draco cried.

 

 “S-stay away!” Longbottom moaned.  “I can’t - I can’t -” The boy’s grip on his hair tightened and he let another heart-piercing wail that caused goose-pimples to spread across Callidus’s skin.

 

Callidus knew that there were still far too many students nearby to make use of the friendliness bomb, though many of them had finally understood the situation and left.  If even one single student were near, it would present too great of a risk.  One overly-friendly student would be completely mauled if Longbottom lost control and let his aggression rule.

 

 “S-stop me!” Longbottom begged, eyes focusing and unfocusing on Callidus.  “D-don’t l-let me hurt anyone!”

 

But Callidus was shaking his head, unprepared for what was facing him, and unable to think of what to do.  If only he had seen Longbottom at their previous tutoring session!  If only Longbottom hadn’t cancelled!  Then, he might have recognized early symptoms of the disease, and gotten help sooner.

 

 “ _ Stupefy! _ ”  Harry’s voice seemed to ring through the hallway, his aim true, and seconds later, Longbottom’s eyes drifted closed and he slumped against the wall and collapsed.  Merlin.

 

Callidus knew it was a risk to himself, but he was too worried about the Gryffindor.  He rushed up to Longbottom’s side, relieved to see that he hadn’t injured himself when he lost consciousness, but moments later, he felt himself being pulled away.  The professors and Madam Pomfrey had arrived.

 

 “You did well, Harry,” McGonagall’s voice said behind him. “Your quick thinking may have saved others from harm.”

 

 “I’ll take care of this, Mr Prince,” Madam Pomfrey said, gently nudging him aside.  “We still don’t know how the disease spreads.  You should return to the common room with your friends.”

 

Feeling numb, Callidus nodded and made his way to Harry and Draco’s side.  There were still a few curious students who surrounded the scene, and among them, Callidus spotted a familiar face that suddenly turned his blood to ice: Alphie.  The fifth year boy bared his teeth in what could be called a smile, if smiles were sinister and hungry things. Just as disconcerting was the fact that he had his wand out, but then again, so did many of the other students around him.  Callidus narrowed his eyes and looked away, feeling for his own wand as if to ensure that he wasn’t entirely defenseless.  He would have to deal with the fifth years later.  Or perhaps sooner rather than later.  But at the moment, all he could think about was Longbottom.

 

 “It feels like this just keeps getting worse,” Harry said as they left the scene.  “It’s weird isn’t it?”

 

Callidus was still too dazed to respond, unable to let go of the image of Longbottom’s frantic face and frightened eyes.  

 

 “What are you talking about?” Draco asked Harry.

 

 “I mean -” Harry rolled his bottom lip beneath his teeth. “I know that Hogwarts is safer than any place else in Britain, so it's easy to forget about the Orange Madness.  But on top of that, well, haven't you noticed?”

 

Draco’s eyebrows lifted.

 

 “No Slytherins have been infected.”

 

Draco snorted. “ I imagine it's our superior bloodlines.”

 

 “Longbottom is a pureblood,” Callidus said, finally paying attention to the conversation. 

 

 “He’s a Gryffindor,” Draco retorted, as if that explained everything.

 

 “He’s one of the Sacred Twenty-eight,” Callidus replied, referencing the twenty-eight families that were considered the most of pureblood all. “His bloodline is ‘superior’ to a large majority of Slytherins.”

 

Draco huffed with irritation. “But Harry’s still right.  No Slytherins have been infected.   _ Something  _ about us is superior.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  “Compared to the rest of Britain, relatively few people here have been infected.  It could be mere chance that no Slytherins have gotten sick.”

 

 “But what if it isn't? What if something about us  _ is  _ different?” Harry wondered. “Shouldn't we find out what that is?”

 

A small smile pulled at the corners of Callidus’s lips. “Are you suggesting research Harry?”

 

 “I - hm - yeah, you’re right.  That sounds like too much work.  I mean - well, I hate that people are getting sick.  But even if I try and research, it’s probably all been considered before.”

 

Callidus snorted. He had a feeling that Harry wouldn't be interested in research.  But Callidus himself had been aware that thus far, Slytherins had been spared from the disease.  He hadn’t wanted to assume a pattern that wasn’t there - not when so few students were actually infected.  And while Harry might not have been interested enough to research the disease, Callidus was.  And with a pang, he realized that now that Longbottom had fallen ill, he wouldn’t be attending their tutoring sessions, and Callidus would have more free time to research.  Shouldn’t he be feeling relief?

 

After a pause, Harry asked:  “Are we going down to the chamber today?”

 

Callidus grimaced.  “I'm rather worn out.”

 

 “What we need are sofas and cushions,” Draco declared.

 

Callidus and Harry looked over at him, expressions questioning.

 

 “I'm aware that the chamber is still a mess, and the temperature charms need work, and the decor, while impressive, is rather austere, but it's still  _ our  _ space,” Draco pointed out. “We have to make it comfortable.  We have to make it  _ ours _ .  Especially if we'll be using it frequently.  Which we will be, of course.  And also, we  _ really _ need a more elegant way of climbing out of the chamber.  I  _ refuse _ to believe that Salazar Slytherin climbed up those pipes by making the surface temporarily sticky like we do.  It’s so -” he creased his nose in an expression of disgust.

 

 “Where are we going to get furniture?” Harry asked.

 

Callidus rolled his eyes. “Have you forgotten your own Transfigurations abilities?” 

 

Harry lit up. “Oh yeah!”

 

 “Are you sure that you can Transfigure furniture of sufficient quality?” Draco asked doubtfully. 

 

Harry's lips crooked upwards. “I’m one of the best in our year, aren’t I?”

 

Draco frowned. “Yes, but we're only second years so that's not very reassuring.”

 

Harry huffed.  “I'm sure I can make something pretty enough to suit your tastes.   _ And _ comfortable enough to suit mine.”

 

Callidus shook his head, slowly tuning out his friends, knowing they would be arguing about furniture types all the way down to the chamber. 

 

Tidying and furnishing the secret chamber proved to be an excellent distraction, but when Callidus laid his head upon his pillow that night, his thoughts returned to Longbottom, and he suddenly remembered Alphie’s face in the crowd.  He pursed his lips.  Harry hadn’t mentioned hearing anything with his Spider Ears spell.  But Callidus wasn’t naive enough to assume that he was safe.  Alphie’s expression had promised trouble.  Closing his eyes, Callidus focused on clearing his mind, and when he drifted off to sleep, the blank sense of nothingness remained.

 

 “What’s this?” 

 

Callidus frowned, recognizing Hoyt’s voice, and shortly after, his surroundings began to materialize.  He was in a stretch of corridor, with no distinguishing features to mark its location.  It was just an prototypical conjuration of his mind.

 

 “Hoyt,” Callidus said emotionlessly, though beneath his stony face, his emotions were a tempest.  Why could he so vividly remember what had happened in all their past encounters during his dreams, while forgetting them upon waking?  How was it even possible for him to forget  _ torture _ ?  But no, there was no sense of thinking of such things.  He had to maintain his coolness, his equanimity.  As he stilled his mind, he saw the corridor begin to fade into blankness, but as his pulse leapt in excitement, the corridor once again solidified.

 

 “Your dreams are awfully boring,” Hoyt said, her nose crinkled.

 

 “That’s the influence of your presence,” Callidus quipped, coldly.

 

Hoyt narrowed her eyes.  “Then it’s a good thing I won’t be alone this time, won’t it?”  Seconds later, her friends appeared behind her, Alphie crying out: “Finally!  It’s been waaay too long!”

 

 “Have some dignity,” the dark-skinned boy, Randle (or so Draco had called him), scoffed.

 

The mousey-haired boy, Drefen, rolled his eyes. “Alphie’s hopeless. He’s got all the self-control of a crup.  An untrained one.”

 

Seeing the fourth fifth years together caused Callidus’s guts to twist.  But there was no sense listening to their banter.  He had to keep his mind blank, and maintain his self-control.

 

 “Ah, but Alphie doesn’t  _ need _ to have self-control, does he?”  Hoyt gave one of her lizard-like grins, but her words weren’t directed at her friends; they were directed at Callidus.

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes, unwilling to be baited.  But Hoyt did not care if Callidus responded or not.

 

 “After all -”

 

 “I'll be able to get you soon, all by myself!” Alphie crowed, interrupting Hoyt, who rolled her eyes. 

 

 “Yes, thank you, Alphie,” Hoyt said irritably, before turning her attention back to Callidus, the reptilian smile back in place.  “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m teaching Alphie how to dream link.  Doesn’t that sound fun?”

 

Callidus’s lips tilted up, but his eyes remained detached.  His blood, however, felt chilled to the bone.  “Your family magics are so basic and simplistic that even  _ he _ can learn them?”

 

Alphie snarled, and Callidus grit his teeth as pain ricocheted through every nerve in his body.  It seemed to last a lifetime, but Hoyt made a motion and stopped him.  Callidus felt his legs tremble, and edged towards the dream wall so that he could lean his weight against it and remain standing.  His brow was beaded with sweat.

 

 “How pathetic,” Callidus lied.

 

Hoyt’s eyes were narrow slits.  “My family magics are far from simple.  But you  _ refuse _ to learn your lesson.  Alphie told me that he saw you trying to help a Gryffindor earlier today.  Hmp.  Once a traitor, always a traitor, aren’t you?”

 

 “Longbottom’s blood is better than  _ yours _ could ever be, Hoyt.  Or the rest of you.”

 

 “Was  _ that _ who it was?” Hoyt answered, tone derisive. “ _ That _ gormless little worm deserves all he got!”

 

The words hit Callidus far harder than he expected, and he felt a rage rising up within him, causing their surroundings to blacken, and the ground to shake.  But instead of frightening the fifth years, Hoyt only widened her eyes and then laughed.

 

 “Oh my.  Did my words  _ bother _ you?” she said.  “You  _ do _ care, don’t you.” She barked out a laugh.  “I hadn’t been too sure.  After all, you’re very adamant about staying away from the Gryffindors. But this just confirms it!”

 

Callidus’s stomach was in knots, the chaos within him spreading and threatening to choke him, strangling the oxygen from his mind.  He  _ had _ to gain control of his emotions.  He had to empty his head.

 

 “Are we going to talk  _ all _ night?” Alphie griped.

 

Hoyt smirked.  “No, Alphie.  In fact, I think I’m finished with speaking.”  The four fifth years lifted their wands, and Callidus braced himself.  But he knew he couldn’t withstand this, knew that he had let himself be weakened by Hoyt’s words.  And when their spell finally hit him, it was only a few seconds before screams were wrenched from his lips.

 

-o-

 

 “Did you sleep well?  You look - er - terrible.”

 

Callidus frowned, brushing the hair away from his face as he sat up.  “I - I might have had a nightmare.  I - can’t remember.  I -” but then, Longbottom’s frightened expression flashed behind his eyes, and then he recalled Alphie’s face from the previous day.  “Did you -” he darted a glance towards Draco, but the blond had buried his head under his pillow, stubbornly resisting the need to wake up, “hear anything?  From the spiders?”

 

A crease appeared between Harry’s brows.  “I - I don’t think so.  But -”

 

Callidus waited patiently for Harry to finish.

 

Harry let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair so that it jutted at strange angles. “Honestly?  I just -” he shook his head, “feel like I haven’t been able to concentrate that well lately.  I think it’s that pendant that Draco gave me.”

 

Callidus inhaled, and leaned towards Harry.  “What do you mean?”  

 

 “I know you were convinced that it does something negative.  But I haven’t felt any different!  Except I just.  Can’t.  Concentrate!  It drives me crazy.  I feel like spells - some spells - are harder.  And the Spider Ears spell is one of them.  I don’t see why I shouldn’t wear the pendant.”

 

Callidus pursed his lips.  “I’m not forcing you -”

 

Harry smiled weakly.  “I know.  But - I mean, it worries you, right?  So -” his shoulders slumped, as if crestfallen, and a renewed sense of guilt stabbed at Callidus’s heart.

 

 “Harry -”  Harry looked up hopefully.  “I -” Callidus looked away.  “If you really think that pendant hasn’t been doing anything negative, then I trust your judgement.  It isn’t up to me whether you wear it or not.”

 

 “You won’t be upset?”

 

Callidus looked back at his friend.  Merlin, it wasn’t fair when Harry used his puppy-dog expression.  Since when did Harry get so good at it anyway?  “I won’t be upset,” he lied.  And though some part of him hoped that Harry would see through his words, his friend simply beamed, and pulled the pendant from where he had kept it (in his pocket, apparently), and looped it around his neck.  This time, though Callidus tried to sense any strange magics, he could detect nothing particularly unusual.  He gave Harry a stiff smile, and dragged himself out of bed.  Maybe once he had some breakfast, he’d stop feeling so utterly  _ wretched _ .


	36. Chapter 36

Callidus had figured it out.  Or at least, he thought he had figured out it.  After so many weeks of tinkering with Longbottom’s mystery potion, he felt that he had finally discovered the elusive recipe.  The only thing that still troubled him was, what book had Longbottom found the recipe from?  He tried cross-referencing the mix of ingredients with the books in the Hogwarts library, and yet, nothing.  Maybe Longbottom had misread?  Or had he accidentally created something all his own?  Both possibilities were highly likely.  Callidus couldn’t explain why, but discovering this potion felt as if he were somehow honouring Longbottom, and making up for the calloused way that Callidus had treated him.  He sighed, pushing away the voice that told him he was deceiving himself.  ‘You’ve just been using him,’ that voice said.  ‘Lie to anyone else, but don’t lie to yourself.’

 

Callidus had even made an effort to visit Longbottom in the infirmary (in secret, of course).  But in that regard, his good intentions were for naught; Madam Pomfrey refused to allow visitors for the stasis-frozen students who had been infected by the Orange Madness. Although Callidus could understand her reasoning, it still vexed him. The guilt that he had hoped to wash his hands clean of seemed to stubbornly cling to him, preventing him from being free of his emotional suffering. It was all Longbottom's fault!

 

But with Longbottom's curious potion finally brewed, Callidus had something new to think about; something quite likely to be remarkable. Sitting in his lab, Callidus glanced over at the benign looking liquid, which was clear with the faintest sheen of pink.  He had, of course, tested the potion first, but he knew enough about the underlying potions theory to know that the brew wouldn't hurt him, and even his magical sensitivity had assured him it was safe. The owl sight potion was already in effect. Brows furrowed in resolve, Callidus made use of an eyedropper and dropped the potion under his tongue. It was slightly sour, but not particularly unpleasant. He turned to look towards the mirror, grimacing at the disturbing clearness of each individual pore on his face.  Sometimes, it seemed there was such a thing as seeing too much. 

 

He was just debating whether or not to add another drop under his tongue (from what he could recall, Longbottom had used five drops), when the transparent shimmering that surrounded his body began to take on a translucent quality.  Like Longbottom, there were strands and arcs of white and yellow that emerged from his body, but unlike Longbottom, there were many other colours twining and looping in and out of his skin. There were shades of purple, blue, green, silver and bronze, that seemed to concentrate around his chest and his head. There were sections of his body, such as his shoulders and arms, where the colors leapt vibrantly off of his skin.  There were other sections, such as on his side or near his thighs where the colors were fainter and more sluggish in their motions.  Callidus wondered what it could mean.

 

He lost sense of how much time had passed. It was the ache in his cheeks that made him realize that he had been grinning for some indeterminate amount of time, and he was suddenly grateful that he spent these lab sessions alone so no one could see that vulnerable joy and delight that he felt as he gazed upon the beauty of his magic. He should tell Harry and Draco, and he stood up, pocketing the vial of fluid.  But halfway to the door, he hesitated.  Draco had mentioned that purebloods were aware of magic's visibility.  Being able to see his own (and possibly other people's) magic was a form of power.  Did he really want to share that power?  To dilute it? He shook his head.  Yet, Callidus trusted Harry and Draco.  And he also trusted the fact that even if they knew that magic could be seen, neither of them had the strength of discipline to be able to consistently brew potions; even those of great benefit to themselves. 

 

Callidus rushed back to the common room, but as he scanned the open space, he saw that Harry and Draco weren’t back from their Quidditch practice. For several seconds, he felt dreadfully exposed.  He could see his own magic whipping wildly from his skin, but from everyone else, there was only that clear shimmering.  But then he shook his head. He was being foolish.  It wasn't as if anyone else was using owl sight potion, and no one should have been able to see the chaotic colours around him - colours that he now thought of as his magical signature. 

 

He found himself wondering if Longbottom's potion (Callidus hadn't been able to think of a proper name for it) could be vapourized.  If such a thing was possible, then he would be able to see peoples’ magic within a certain perimeter, whether they knew it or not. His skin tingled, not from the potions, but from the sudden awareness of all that he could learn.  Being able to see magic could open up unfathomable avenues of knowledge and he felt a strange chorus with in his heart, and intense longing of possibilities.  He shook his head. This wasn't the place for such thoughts.  His pace brisk, he made his way back to his dormitory to await Harry's and Draco’s return.

 

His friends’ practice session was taking an unexpectedly long time, but Callidus was hardly aware of the time.  Even without a mirror, his magic was clear, and so strangely gorgeous that it was a pleasure to simply sit and stare at it.  The white and yellow magic appeared to remain contained within himself, however the other colors - the greens, blues, purple and bronze - appeared to weave in and out of him, simultaneously part of his body and yet part of his surroundings as well. What did it even mean?  It was painful to realize that prior to discovering Longbottom's potion, he had already searched out every book that he could find related to seeing magic.  Whatever the answer was, it wouldn't be found in books.  Whatever the answer was, he would have to find it himself. 

 

As his excitement eased into a meditative calm (it was entrancing to watch the patterns of his magic), he noticed the movements of his magic changing as well.  But his state of calmness was also opening his mind to other matters.  This potion that he had used remained something he still couldn't think of as his own discovery.  And while thoughts of Longbottom had a been part of his motivation, now that he had brewed the mysterious pink fluid, he didn't feel any better about the Gryffindor.  What kind of bizarre mix had Longbottom put together anyway?  When Callidus considered the individual ingredients, no experienced potioneer would ever think to put such ingredients together.  Based on theory alone, the potion shouldn't have even had any effects. And in truth, without the owl sight potion, Longbottom's brew certainly didn't cause any noticeable changes.

 

Callidus sighed. Did he  _ really  _ want to tell Harry and Draco about this? He most definitely would if it had been his own creation.  And yes, he was the one who recreated the original potion. ‘But this is Longbottom's brew,’ a voice needlessly reminded him. ‘Am I trying to take credit for Longbottom's brew?’

 

By the time Harry and Draco returned to the dormitory, Callidus is mood had darkened. One voice quarreled with another in the tight confines of his mind, so that by the time his friends returned, he felt too exhausted to socialize, letting them chatter amongst themselves instead.  It was easy enough to tune out Quidditch related talk. 

 

The days slid into weeks, and those weeks were spent trying to examine every facet of magical sight that could be uncovered.  Callidus learned that yes, Longbottom's potion could be vapourized, and once vapourized, he was able to see the magic of other people within that small circumference. 

 

Vapourizing the potion within the Slytherin common room had been an enlightening experience.  There was a distinct pattern (or at least Callidus assumed it was a pattern, but his sample size was relatively small, and he didn't want to make sweeping generalizations).  Most of the younger students were surrounded with yellow, white, silver, and small tinges of green.  However, the older students (not all, but many), were steeped in purples and blues, of a multitude of shades, ranging from the color of a twilight sky, to gentle hues of sweet pastels. 

 

He learned from experimenting on himself that different spells affected the colours on his body. The spells they learned in class often flared yellow, sometimes as pale as butter, sometimes as dark as mustard. But the spells from ARMED?  Those were more interesting. A number of them were multicolored, but certain colors were more likely to be paired. 

 

If anything, being able to see magic was far to engrossing. It had always been his nature to throw himself into his interests wholeheartedly, and this new exploration of magic was no different.  The only problem was, he had let himself slip into secrecy, and as time went on, that secrecy became something to be guarded, protected, maintained. It forced him to act normal, but normal was necessary.  As much as he wanted to throw every fiber of his being into exploring magical sight, he still had to maintain the image of a studious Slytherin, who cared about grades and house points (and of course potions.  Potions might not be at the forefront of his mind anymore, but it was still etched into his identity).

 

The only thing that managed to wrest his attention away from cataloging all the details of magical sight (the same way he might catalog the properties of various potions ingredients) was a  _ Daily Prophet _ article in mid-March. 

 

It had seemed like an ordinary day, until the owl post arrived. As more and more students eyes fell upon the blaring headlines, a hush of shared dismay spread across the Great Hall. 

 

_ THE ORANGE MADNESS CLAIMS THE LIFE ITS FIRST VICTIM!  _ the headline announced.  But with the nature of the disease, it was ambiguous enough that none could be certain whether it was one of the diseased who had died, or if the death was one of the poor bystanders who had been attacked.

 

The students crowded around in bunches, centering on anyone who happened to have a subscription to the newspaper. Callidus and Harry leaned towards Draco, reading as he read. 

 

_ It has been long believed that those at the greatest risk of being harmed by the Orange Madness are those who are viciously attacked by the infected. But this reporter has been shocked to learn that that is no longer the case. _

 

Callidus grimaced.  He hated the journalists at the _ Daily Prophet _ , with their histrionic and hyperbolic reporting. The _ Daily Prophet _ was far from unbiased, but Wizarding Britain was terribly lacking when it came credible sources of news.  After all, did one really want to get information from  _ The Quibbler _ or  _ Witch Weekly _ ? The very idea made him shudder.

 

_ Eliza Hughes, a 9 year old half-blood, is one of the youngest victims of the Orange Madness, and her death has come as a great shock and tragedy to her family.  “We thought this magical stasis was supposed to keep her safe,”  said a tearful Permelia Hughes, the child’s mother. “We trusted the healers at St Mungo's.  Why couldn't they stop this? Lizzie was so sweet and young. She had her whole future ahead of her.”  _

 

_  “We have been doing everything possible to try to help the victims of the Orange Madness,” a representative from St Mungo's told me. “We treat all of our patients with the greatest care, and the young patient’s stasis spells had been firmly fixed in place.”  When asked if the Orange Madness had taken a dangerous turn for the worse, the representative refused to comment, saying instead: “Our researchers are working around the clock to find a cure.”  _

 

_ Hughes was not the first to be infected, nor was she even one of the first few.  In fact, the young Hughes is one of the later victims, which begs the question, why?  Why did the Orange Madness claim her life while leaving so many others clinging on?  This reporter only hopes that the researchers at St Mungo's will find an answer soon _ . 

 

Callidus forced his eyes away from the moving portrait of the young girl, who grinned to reveal the gap of a missing tooth, her eyes gleaming with a cheerful innocence as she waved at an unseen photographer.  That child would never grin again. Feeling cold, he stared down at his plate, his appetite gone, and the incipient white noise in ears blocking out the sounds of the other students around him.

 

It was so easy to believe that a magical stasis could have kept the victims safe. There had been so many people to fall ill to the disease, but there had been no fatalities and it was so easy to think that the victims could simply wait, in their unconscious state, until there was a cure.  But today's article had been like an unexpected punch from reality, hard and unsparing. Lives were on the line.  Hogwarts’ students lives.  Longbottom's life.  Callidus was appetite had already been waning before, but now it was completely gone. And what could he do? Was there anything?  He thought that being able to see magic would yield a hint. But he hadn't considered that he would have to learn to  _ read  _ magic first, and magic seem to speak not in words, but in colours and shapes.  Even if he could make sense of magic, would he do so in time to do any good? No one noticed the firm set of his mouth.  They were too lost in their thought own thoughts, wondering what the future would bring. 

 

Indulging his disquietude would bring no solutions, so Callidus threw himself back into his studies, and learning everything that he possibly could from the owl sight potion and Longbottom's brew. This was how he found himself in the fourth floor classroom, Longbottom's brew already diffusing through the air, as his Gryffindor friends sat down in their usual spots at the joined tables. 

 

 “Are you struggling to concentrate, Callidus?”  Hermione's comment almost caused Callidus to flinch, but somehow he managed to restrain himself to nothing more than a slight twitch in his eye. “You keep looking over at Caiside and Ginny. There's no need to force yourself if you can't concentrate.  I know that revising is just as important to you as it is to me, but knowing when to rest is a key component to absorbing information.” 

 

Caiside snorted. “Did you really just say that, ‘Moine?  Really?  When everyone else is spending their evening playing exploding snap, or chess, or gobstones, you're still reading.  When you're rubbing your eyes and yawning, you're still reading.  And I've heard Lavender and Parvati complaining about how you keep them up at night with your wand light while you read.” 

 

 “That's just my  _ light  _ reading!  Reading is just how I relax!” 

 

Callidus tuned out the voices of the Gryffindor girls as Longbottom's Brew began to take effect, and the rippling magic that surrounded them became visible. Even after all these weeks had passed, the sight of it still entranced him. And since they were in a confined room, the potion worked far better than it would otherwise. These days, he knew better than to waste the valuable Longbottom brew in open spaces where he would barely manage to see a hint of other people's magic. 

 

Yellow and white light danced around the two girls, as well as a tinge of green.  It was similar to the first year Slytherins, but the yellow and white seem to be brighter, and there were less hints of silver.  There was nothing unusual. He turned to look at Hermione by his side, and his mouth fell open before he snapped it shut a second later.  It was fortunate that Hermione was still speaking to Caiside; otherwise, with her inordinately sharp perceptions, she would have noted and commented on his expression right away. Even now, she was turning her head, a small wrinkle appearing between her brows as she looked at him with suspicion. But he had composed his expression and was looking back down at his books, staring down at the fibrous texture of the parchment, near invisible to human eyes.  He wasn't actually thinking about the texture of the parchment. His mind was still trying to process what he had seen around Hermione. 

 

On first glance, the colours that surrounded her appear to be the same as the ones around Caiside and Ginny, but they were significantly more brilliant - nearly blindingly so. When Callidus had vapourized the potion in the Slytherin dormitory, he remembered that Harry had had the largest and brightest colors of all the second years.  But like all the others, the colours were uneven.  Callidus had suspicions that the brightness and size of those arcs of colour had something to do with either one's magical ability, or magical power.  And to see it so brightly lit around Hermione with startling.  He was aware of her brilliance (though he felt that his own intelligence was tightly matched.)  Was Hermione far more powerful than he could have ever imagined? Or did she just have a vast ability?

 

After what seemed like a sufficient amount of time had passed, he surreptitiously peered towards her. He was prepared for the brightness this time, and now that he was taking another look, he saw that most of it seem to centre around her head, much like a halo encircled a muggle saint. As his eyes drifted downwards towards her shoulders and arms, he could see that the magic there wasn't quite as spectacular.  Nonetheless, the magic around her head was still remarkable. And Hermione's magic was tinged with a veritable forest of greens, entwined with glowing bronze. 

 

 “Are you attending ARMED meetings?” Callidus realized a second later that he had interposed himself between girl’s conversation, but he managed to maintain a cool facade, rather than flushing in chagrin at his own untimely interruption. 

 

Hermione gave him a brief searching look before she answered. “Yes, we are.”

 

 “That was being run by some Hufflepuff?”

 

Hermione nodded, eyes still assessing. “Yes. Gabriel.  Gabriel Truman.” 

 

 “What sort of things have you been learning?”

 

At the opportunity to be able to discuss her education, Hermione seem to straighten up, and the magic around her flared.  Was that the result of her excitement?  Her ‘halo’ was even brighter, the loops of light bubbling like a potion under a boil. It was an effort to look her in the eye, rather than gawping at her magic in a daze. Staring at the beautiful interplay of multi-coloured magic around Harry was one thing, but seeing what must have been Hermione's enthusiasm was something else. It was different, but no less wonderful. He was suddenly glad that Hermione was no Legilimens. Being able to see magic was causing him to think the strangest of thoughts; thoughts that he would never want anyone else to be aware of. 

 

He listened to Hermione speak, not because he was so fascinated by what the other faction of ARMED was learning, but because he wanted to know whether what they were learning was influencing her magic.  He was aware that Truman's meetings would differ from Rowle’s, but he was surprised by some of the similarities as well.  Truman might not have had the club members learning anything related to Dark Magic, but he was opening their minds to old forms of magic:  Earth magic and wild magic. 

 

 “But of course, most of the focus is on theory rather than practice.  It would be highly irresponsible to practice old and unpredictable forms of magic in a club with so many students,” Hermione concluded.

 

 “Indeed,” Callidus absently replied.

 

The conversation eventually drifted to other things, and Callidus pretended to study, though in fact he was taking notes about what Hermione had told him, as well as his observations about her interesting magic. Having to write anything while under the influence of owl sight was a challenge, and he did have a tendency to make his letters a little too small, but he had had practice enough that he could at least take notes without making himself feel nauseated. 

 

He completely ignored the girls chatter until a mention of the Orange Madness caused him to still his hand and perk up his ear in interest. 

 

 “- feel so terrible for their families,” Ginny was saying. “I mean, of course I would never want any of my own family to be infected in the first place, but we had all thought that if it ever happened, at least the magical stasis would keep people safe and alive, you know?  And knowing that it doesn't -” her lips pressed together unhappily, “it's just scary. Mum knows some of the families who have had someone fall sick, and they're just terrified.” 

 

 “It's shifting public perception,” Hermione murmured. “People were incredibly angry at first, thinking that the infected were a threat to public safety.  But with that poor little girl -” her voice broke as she shook her head, “things are changing now. People are starting to see the victims of the disease as actual victims, rather than just perpetrators of aggression.  It's terrible that a child had to die for it to happen though.  It just -” her expression crumpled into something that warred between anger and pain. 

 

 “And poor Neville,” Ginny added, giving Caiside a sidelong look. But Callidus paid no heed to Caiside’s response.  Hearing Longbottom's name was too much of a blow, upsetting his equilibrium. 

 

Hermione sighed. “If only I had access to their research.  Of course, I wouldn't presume to be able to solve the problem on my own, but I wish I could see the progress that they were making.” 

 

The group fell into a weighty silence as each of them drifted off into their own troubled thoughts. It was Callidus who eventually broke it, if only to avoid thinking about the possibility of Longbottom dying.

 

 “Has this disease ever struck any of you as being -” he pursed his lips, “unnatural?”

 

 “Unnatural?” Hermione repeated. “Certainly, it's something new that the magical community has never seen before.  But that's the nature of many diseases.”

 

Callidus hummed, finding nothing particularly useful in Hermione's answer, but as his eyes slid away from her, he caught sight of something Caiside’s expression.  Alertness flooded him, making his nerves tingle in readiness.  Not only did Caiside look to be gritting her teeth, but her magic had been agitated, losing its curved whorls to erratic breakages that looked as jagged as the small broken bones that once littered the bottom of the secret chamber. 

 

Their eyes met. Callidus thought that he would see surprise in Caiside’s dark eyes.  But instead, they were shuttered and unreadable. Caiside may have been a Gryffindor, but her mother must have left some Slytherin marks upon her psyche. 

 

Caiside looked away from him. “I'm afraid I'm not feeling very well,” she said, rubbing her right eyebrow. “I'm going to head back to the common room.”

 

 “Do you want us to come with you?”  Hermione asked, worried.

 

Caiside shook her head, quickly tossing her books and parchment into her satchel. “No, no.  I'm just going to go lie down for a bit.” 

 

 “I'll walk you back to the tower,” Callidus offered. 

 

 “Oh no,” Caiside said with forced nonchalance. “I wouldn't want to trouble you. The tower’s in the opposite direction of the dungeons.”

 

 “No trouble,”  Callidus said, but Caiside was already out the door, and he was still trying to stuff his notes and books into his bag.  Ignoring Hermione's and Ginny's bemused looks, he dashed out after Caiside, but she was already gone. Callidus had a vague idea of where Gryffindor Tower was located, but he did not know the precise location of the entrance.  Nonetheless, he broke into a run, more intent on finding Caiside than looking dignified. Occasionally he would hear the sound of footfalls up ahead, but it was only the other students going about their day. 

 

He ventured up the stairs, but he was less familiar with these parts of the castle.  Voice low, he cursed his luck.  But Caiside couldn't avoid him forever.  And with her strange behaviour, there was no way that he would forget to root out the cause. Caiside knew something.   But what?


	37. Chapter 37

Callidus heard a low laugh escape from Harry's lips at the breakfast table.  Following Harry's line of sight, he saw that his friend was once again looking at Rowle, who was peeking at someone across the table. The corner of Callidus’s lip quirked up and he shook his head.  Harry certainly wasn’t the most patient of wizards, but this prank (or should it be called a form of vengeance), was rather drawn out. What was Harry planning?  He was sure his friend would tell him (or reveal it) when he was ready.

 

As for Draco, he was preoccupied with reading a letter he had received from his parents. He looked up at Callidus, bemused.

 

 “Did you ever speak to my parents when I wasn't there?”

 

 “No.  Why are you asking?”

 

Draco pressed his lips together and looked back down at his letter. “Well, I'm accustomed to my parents asking about Harry, but lately they seem to have been asking about you.”

 

A shiver run down Callidus’s spine. “Oh?”

 

Draco shook his head. “I suppose I could just be imagining it. I mean -” he looked over towards Callidus, his nose wrinkled, “it's not like you ever do anything  _ exciting _ . You're not the one who's famous.”

 

 “Indeed.  I'm sure it's - nothing.”

 

Draco nodded, seemingly content after hearing Callidus’s agreement, but Callidus was unable to rest so easily, wondering what this new-found information could mean.  What could the Malfoys intend? What could they possibly want from him? Because whatever they wanted surely had nothing to do with him - not if they thought that he was Severus Snape. 

 

 “Does anyone feel really uncomfortable ever since that half-blood girl died of the Orange Madness” he heard Greengrass say. It was difficult to ignore that high-pitched whinge. “I mean, our House is the only one that hasn't been infected, probably because our blood is cleaner than everyone else's.  It just feels like everyone's looking at us with their ugly accusing eyes.”

 

 “Having pureblood doesn't mean having clean blood,” Harry said, his voice tinged with irritation, and Rowle momentarily forgotten. 

 

 “Oh really?  Then why are other people falling sick, but not Slytherins?”

 

 “What of the people in St. Mungo's?” Callidus pointed out. “They may not be students, but some of them were former Slytherins.”

 

 “Well,” Pansy cut in, “There's no denying that things have been a lot more depressing lately.  I used to think that the school would be so much better if everyone from the other Houses acted with a little more decorum, but these days, it's quieter than it's ever been, and it makes my skin crawl.  It's so eerie.” 

 

Blaise smiled darkly. “Proximity to death certainly does strange things to people's minds.”

 

Greengrass visibly shuddered. “Blaise, please.  I'm trying to eat.” 

 

 “Can't let the death of little girl upset your appetite, now can we?” Callidus said low and scathing.

 

Greengrass blinked. “Why would I lose my appetite over something that happened over a week ago?  It’s not like I knew the family.”

 

 “Harry, Callidus,” Draco cut in, “You two will be coming to the manor for the break, won't you?  April is coming up -” 

 

Callidus started.  He had been so preoccupied with Longbottom's Brew and revising that he had completely forgotten about the Easter break.  But before he or Harry could answer, a fluttering noise and then a series of chirps caught the attention of everyone in the Great Hall.  It wasn’t the owl post; the owls had already arrived and left, and besides, owls did not chirp.  Mystified, the students craned their necks upwards, eyes growing large and mouths falling open as the sky-like ceiling of the Great Hall filled with a multitude of small birds in a rainbow of colours.  The birds were plump and sparrow-like, flying in wild swooping patterns, and a few of the students began to giggle.  Was this a prank?  He turned towards the Gryffindor table, easily spotting the Weasley twins, but it was impossible to read their expressions. For a prank, it seemed rather tame. That was, until -

 

 “It - it pooped on me!” Greengrass shrieked.

 

 “My robes!  Get away from me! Get away!  Shoo!”  That was the voice of Lockhart at the High Table. “These robes were specially commissioned to match my complexion and hair! They cost half my salary here at Hogwarts!” 

 

Callidus snorted with amusement.  Lockhart’s robes were a garish magenta with silver accents - a monstrosity that even someone like Dumbledore would shy away from (or perhaps not - Dumbledore would probably wear them if the robes had a different cut).  Lockhart had pulled out his wand, and was trying to spell away the multicolored birds, but that only served to cause them to double in number, until those birds were pooping on him as well.  There were dismayed screams and laughs throughout the Great Hall, as the birds transformed the mood of the room from a grim one to one of disgust mingled with amused delight.

 

Callidus himself was covering his own head with his hands, and not far from him, he heard Draco wail. When he looked over at his friend, there was a huge glob of white on his head.  Though he knew that he could end up being the next target, he burst out in laughter at the expression of unmitigated horror on Draco's face.

 

Harry was laughing as well, not even bothering to try to cover his own head, but Harry had more sympathy for Draco, and attempted to remove the white mess from his head.

 

 “Do you smell that?” Harry asked, his voice raised over the cries all around them.

 

 “I'm not smelling anything!  It get it off me!”  Draco moaned in misery. “My hair’s ruined!”

 

 “No, smell it!” Harry said, holding up the white glob towards Draco's nose. But Draco quickly backed away, and Harry held out his hand to Callidus. “Smell it!  I don’t think it’s really bird poop.  It’s -” Harry sniffed his own hand, and the Slytherins watched with open shock as Harry brought the white material to his mouth and licked it.  Out of the corner of his eye, Callidus could see Greengrass turning an alarming shade of green, while Pansy swayed on her feet as if near fainting.

 

 “It's whipped cream!” Harry exclaimed. “It tastes good!” And he proceeded to lick all of the white material off of his fingers, grinning widely.

 

Harry wasn't the only one to make this discovery. At the other tables, Callidus could hear the words ‘whipped cream’ being repeated over and over.  The shrieks had all but died down, and most students were laughing, grabbing up globs of the whipped cream, and playfully smearing it in each other's faces. 

 

The professors were trying to contain the chaos (except Lockhart who had fled the Hall), however, Callidus couldn't help but notice the bright sparkle of Dumbledore's eyes.  Despite all of the Headmaster's flaws, he did seemed to take pleasure in the students’ happiness, and considering recent events, happiness was sorely needed.  The students and teachers soon learned that both the birds and the whipped cream were immune to vanishing spells and cleaning spells. It seemed like the only way to get rid of the cream was to eat it.

 

As Callidus observed the continuing pandemonium, he realized that this could be the perfect opportunity to finally corner Caiside. The Gryffindor had been extremely determined to avoid him, steering clear from him with aggravating ease, likely because she was in a different year.  He wove his way through the students and messes of whipped cream (though the majority of the whipped cream had fallen on people's heads and robes), but when he reached the Gryffindor table, neither Caiside nor Hermione were in sight.

 

He spotted Ginny, and when she saw him, she said: “‘Moine left because she didn't want her books to get damaged, and Caiside went with her.”

 

Callidus frowned and nodded, irritated that even in the midst of this prank, Caiside had managed to stay one step ahead of him. But Caiside's evasion served to do one thing that she may not have intended: Callidus started asking himself questions, trying to determine all the reasons that Caiside might be avoiding him. And the more he thought, the more he wondered if Madam Filodoxos might be involved.  He had briefly considered Segnis as well, but he just couldn't see what a musician would have to do with the Orange Madness. But so long as Caiside was avoiding him, he would receive no confirmation for his suspicions.

 

But Caiside wasn't his only lead.  With the combination of Longbottom's brew and the owl sight potion, Callidus knew that he had the opportunity to discover something about the Orange Madness that the researchers at St Mungo's might not be aware of.  However, to learn anything, Callidus needed to have access to the patients who had already been infected, and all of the patients were in the infirmary, kept inaccessible by Madam Pomfrey.

 

Callidus wasn't one to give up without making an effort.  One of the very first things he had tried was to claim to be suffering a headache and needing one of Madam Pomfrey potions to cure it.  But while such a method had gotten him through the infirmary doors, the matron had quickly handed him the potion, watched him drink it, and then shooed him out. Unfortunately, his subsequent efforts proved to be just as futile and Callidus had the feeling that the only way he would be able to examine the stasis-bound students was if he was seriously injured enough to warrant an overnight stay.  But with the nature of magical healing, it was no easy feat to hurt oneself enough that it was necessary to stay in the infirmary overnight.  Even breaking his own bones wouldn't do (not that Callidus could bring himself to break bones). 

 

And yet, Callidus prided himself on both his intelligence and his determination. He had conceived of the idea of using a potion which, while it wouldn't do him any serious harm, would result in dramatic and unpleasant symptoms. With a hideous reddish-purple rash that marred most of the skin on his body (though sparing his face), Callidus pushed the doors to the infirmary open scanning the room for Madam Pomfrey.  He heard her before he saw her, but it sounded as though she wasn't alone.  Moments later, he realized that she was taking a Floo call. 

 

 “Yes, I've been using the newest monitoring spells that you've shown me,” the matron said into the fireplace.

 

 “What have the results showed?” a tenor voice asked.

 

 “It's just as you said,” Madam Pomfrey answered. “The stasis spell is holding, but their condition is still deteriorating. Why is this happening?  They shouldn't be getting worse with the stasis spell on them.”

 

The words made Callidus feel as if all the breath had been stolen from his lungs.  He had been trying to avoid thinking about the possibility of any of the students dying, instead, forcing himself to consider possible solutions.  But what if no solutions were found in time? What then? 

 

 “Our researchers are still trying to determine the answers,” the man in the fireplace said. “All we know for sure is that the younger the age, the more vulnerable they are.  The students there at Hogwarts might be a bit older than the young girl that succumbed to the disease, but the risk is still high.  Very high.”

 

 “And you don't think that they should be transferred to St Mungo's?”

 

 “As I said, the hospital is overwhelmed right now,” the man explained. “The care that the children would receive here wouldn't be much better than what you can provide at Hogwarts.  Honestly, they receive more personalized care where they are now.”

 

 “It’s just -” to Callidus’s shock, Madam Pomfrey voice began to break. He had never heard the matron sound anything other than brisk and in complete control, “heartbreaking to witness the children like this, and knowing that there's nothing I can do.”

 

 “I understand.  It's situations like these that make me question why I ever became a healer.  But we're all doing the best that we can. If we learn anything, I'll let you know immediately.  In the meantime, I need to get back to work.” 

 

The Floo call ended, and Madam Pomfrey straightened up, wiping her eyes.  But suddenly, she noticed Callidus’s presence and her demeanour immediately changed from vulnerable to professional.  Callidus was too shocked by everything he had heard to do anything more then let Madam Pomfrey run her diagnostic spells and give him a potion that would take care of his rash. She sent him off with an admonition, telling him that he needed to take better care of himself, and numbly, Callidus nodded.

 

He stumbled back down to the dungeons, feeling like an inferius. He was barely aware of his surroundings as he entered the common room and sat down on the sofa next to Harry.

 

 “Hey, Cal?” Harry said, his voice low enough so that only Callidus could hear, “it might be a good idea for you to not sleep tonight.”

 

 “What?”

 

 “You know, that situation with the fifth years -”

 

 “The fifth - Oh.  You heard something?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Callidus gave him a nod and a mumbled “all right,” but despite the dread he felt at the prospect of getting no sleep, it did not shake him from the overwhelming sense of numbness from hearing Madam Pomfrey’s words.  He didn't want anyone to die.  He didn't want anyone that he  _ knew  _ to die. Why did this have to happen?  And why did he suddenly feel so powerless now, of all times, just when he had really started to make progress?  Avoiding sleep came easily that night.  After all, how was Callidus supposed to sleep when his thoughts revolved around and around, chasing every hint of drowsiness out of his mind. 

 

-o-

 

 “Ready to go?”  Draco asked.

 

Callidus grimaced at the blond.  He couldn't believe that he had completely lost track of time and now it was Easter break.  Wasn't it just the other day that Draco was asking about Easter?  And now it was upon them, and somehow Draco had decided that Harry and Callidus had agreed to go to Malfoy Manor. How could it possibly be considered a break to spend time at Malfoy Manor?  He wouldn't have access to a potions lab.  He wouldn't have an opportunity to try, yet again, to sneak into the infirmary see the infected students.  He wasn't even sure if he would be able to sleep well, knowing that he was surrounded by Malfoys.  And in Harry’s and Draco’s company, would he even be able to concentrate on revising?  To make matters even more stressful, the three of them had to consider the subjects that they would choose for third year.  At least Harry and Draco weren’t as agitated about it as Hermione was.  

 

But there was one other reason why Callidus was regretting going to Malfoy Manor: it meant that he wouldn’t have a chance to speak to Caiside.  After all, if Caiside was returning to her parents, he could have been there and she wouldn't have been able to avoid him.  He would have finally discovered what she was hiding.  And now that particular opportunity was lost. 

 

 “Is it just in my head or do you look even more miserable than usual?” Draco remarked, mouth twisted in slight disapproval as he scanned Callidus’s face, but he didn't seem to care about the answer, too excited about the prospect of going home. 

 

Callidus ended up sleeping during most of the train ride from Hogwarts to King’s Cross Station.  And yet, by the time the Malfoys came to pick them up, he felt more exhausted than ever.  It was strange how sleeping after a period of sleep deprivation could make one feel even more tired than before.  And Callidus was most certainly sleep deprived.

 

Nonetheless, he paid close attention to Lucius’s and Narcissa’s reactions as they greeted him. But the two elder Malfoys were too well-bred to wear their feelings upon their faces.  They treated him as politely as ever, and left him wondering whether or not he had imagined the moment of recognition he had seen before. 

 

Though it was true that Draco wanted to spend most of their break playing and having fun, Callidus ended up having more time to revise than he had expected.  With the weather growing warmer, Draco was keen to spend his time flying with Harry (despite all the time that they spent flying for Quidditch practice). But when Callidus asked about it, Draco merely said, as if it was obvious: “There's a big difference between flying for practice, and flying for fun.  And it's been  _ ages _ since either of us could just fly for fun.  I'm not going to waste this opportunity!”  All the while, Harry nodded as if that made perfect sense.

 

But as the week progressed, Callidus noticed that there was indeed a difference between this visit and his other visits in the past.  There were moments when he felt like Lucius Malfoy was observing him, though every time he turned his head to look, Draco's father acted as if he was preoccupied with something else.  Beyond that, the elder Malfoys engaged him in far more conversation than usual.  But even so, he couldn't help wondering if that too was merely a product of an overactive mind.  Yes, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy might be speaking to him more, but perhaps that was because he was staying here for a week rather than for a single day, and more than that, Callidus acted more maturely than either Harry or Draco.  Was it any wonder that the adults would prefer to speak to someone who was more mature? 

 

And while Callidus might have lamented the fact that he couldn't make progress on his personal research into the Orange Madness, he still managed to gain some rather interesting insights. He had brought his magic sight combination of potions, and one afternoon, decided to use it in order to take a look at the magic that surrounded Draco's parents.

 

The sight that had greeted him was astounding. Narcissa Malfoy’s magic had been rather beautiful, the arcing patterns graceful and sinuous.  But it was Lucius Malfoy’s magic that almost caused him to embarrass himself, due to the way he stared at the older man. Lucius’s magic had been bursting with shades of dark purple and dark blue (among all the other colors such as white, yellow, green, and various metallic strands).  The purples and blues were so deep that they were nearly black, so that Lucius appeared to be engulfed by wild streaks of inky shadows. Lucius’s magic was far less patterned than Narcissa’s, leaping around him chaotic curves and constant motion, like boiling water.  Callidus wasn't sure of what to make of it.  Between Narcissa and Lucius, he couldn't really gauge who might be the more powerful of the two.  Their magic might contain fairly similar colors, and their outward demeanour might suggest similar personalities, but beneath the surface their magic showed that they were different people.

 

The only other event that captured Callidus’s attention over the break occurred during one of their breakfasts. Because they didn't have to go to classes, Harry and Draco had fallen into the habit of sleeping in. But aside from the first couple of days when Callidus had to catch up on much-needed sleep, Callidus felt no inclination to be dragged into Harry and Draco undisciplined schedule. 

 

Usually, Callidus was content to wait until Harry and Draco woke up, so that the three of them could head down and take their meals together. But he had been spending his week trying to cram facts and figures into his mind, and he found his concentration beginning to falter.  He realized that he needed to eat if he was going to be able to keep up his pace.  His lips pursed in irritation over Harry’s and Draco’s slothfulness, he decided to head down to the breakfast room alone.

 

Callidus hadn't been expecting to see anyone in the breakfast room.  He knew that food would be available to them at any time thanks to the Malfoy house elves, and had thought that he would be eating on his own. Which was why, when he entered the breakfast room (with a book in hand, so that he would have something to entertain himself with), he was startled by the sight of Lucius Malfoy, with a half empty plate and a newspaper in front of him.

 

 “Good morning, Callidus,” Lucius greeted smoothly.

 

Callidus started, but quickly collected himself. “Good morning Mr Malfoy.”  It seemed to be too late to back out now, so he stepped forward and sat down at the table. Callidus had been hungry before, but with Lucius Malfoy as his only company, his appetite shrivelled away. Nonetheless, to avoid looking rude, he forced himself to eat the food that the house elf had placed in front of him. He had nothing to say to the older man, so he said nothing.  In the end, it was Lucius Malfoy that broke the silence.

 

 “I have heard from my son that you have an interest in potions.”

 

Callidus tensed.  Was this question a trap?  After all, Severus Snape had been a Potions Master, and had taught Potions at Hogwarts. “I have an interest in many things,” Callidus replied.

 

 “It's good to see someone your age so academically motivated,” Lucius answered smoothly. “Having a broad base of knowledge can take you far in life.  Particularly if you're motivated.”

 

  “Yes. I don't intend to limit myself.” 

 

 “Have you given a great deal of thought to your future?”

 

 “I don't have definite plans,” Callidus answered cautiously. He was feeling increasingly disquieted, speaking of himself.  He felt the need to change the topic, and when his eyes fell upon the headlines of the  _ Daily Prophet _ , he seized upon what he saw there. “Is there more news about the Orange Madness?”

 

Lucius arched a pale eyebrow. “Yes.  We are fortunate to be so untouched by the disease.  It appears to predominantly affected those with questionable blood.”

 

Callidus bristled, and the words escaped his mouth before he could think to rein them in. “That isn't true.  One of the students at Hogwarts that has been infected is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

 

Lucius seemed to become very alert, like a large predatory cat catching wind of a vulnerable prey. “Who?  Surely not a Slytherin.”

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes.  It seemed like a strange thing for Lucius Malfoy to say, but then again, Callidus didn't know how much Draco reported to his father. “Longbottom,” He informed the other man.

 

Though the action was incredibly subtle, Lucius appeared to relax. “Ah.  Yes.  The Longbottoms. The family has always been traditionally -” he paused, “Gryffindor.”  Callidus couldn't help thinking that Lucius had meant to say something else.  But what? 

 

However, Callidus didn't have a chance to discover anything further.  There was a sound in the corridor, and moments later, Harry and Draco entered the breakfast room, Harry calling out: “ we didn't know where you went, Cal! Oh.  Good morning, Mr Malfoy.”

 

Callidus didn't end up having another moment alone with Lucius Malfoy during the rest of his Easter break.


	38. Chapter 38

After the Easter break, Callidus had time and space enough to sort out his priorities, which had given him two very specific goals in mind: to check on Longbottom in the infirmary, and to speak to Caiside.  Of course, this was easier said than done, seeing as he still had to study for his classes, while finding time to make sense of what the magic sight potion was trying to tell him.  But Callidus wasn't without tools; during his stay at Malfoy Manor, he had of course availed himself to their extensive library, and had learned the spider ears spell that Harry had mentioned.  Such a spell seemed incredibly useful, the more he considered it, and there was no reason not to.

 

Knowing that it would be easier to visit the infirmary than to run all over Hogwarts looking for Caiside, he headed to the hospital wing first.

 

Madam Pomfrey’s expression was filled with consternation when she spotted him. “You've just returned from your break, Mr Prince, and you've already managed to hurt yourself?” 

 

Callidus felt his cheeks becoming warm.  It was true that he had been to the infirmary a far more often than usual, and much of his visits were based in deception, but it was for a good cause, and that was enough to steel his resolve. “No, I know you've said that we aren't permitted but -”

 

He could see understanding, and then sympathy pass across Madam Pomfrey’s face.  In fact, as he took note of her face, he couldn't help but notice how weary she appeared, and how deep the lines bracketing her mouth were. Of course, Callidus wasn't so foolish as to hope that the Orange Madness would be miraculously cured during his holidays, but nonetheless seeing Madam Pomfrey’s face made him feel like he had rocks weighing down his stomach. 

 

 “I'm afraid I can't let you visit any of the infected students.  You know that, Mr Prince.”

 

Callidus pressed his lips together, but he had been expecting such a response, and he nodded.  It looked like he would have to resort to the spider ears spell, and continue his plan of trying to sneak into the infirmary for an extended stay. The spider ears spell, like the owl sight spell, classified as Earth Magic, which meant that the process was a mesh of potion-like substances, and ritual incantations. Much like the owl sight ritual, the spider ears spell was simplistic; in truth, even a child would be able to perform such a ritual.  But like most other Earth Magics, it had fallen out of popularity because of a slight association with Dark Magic, as well as the fact that having to perform rituals merely for an effect tended to be inconvenient and messy compared to wand waving and incantations.

 

Upon performing the spider ears spell, Callidus learned two unfortunate things: the infirmary was kept meticulously clean, which meant that spiders had no opportunity to make their home there, and worse, trying ‘listen’ through spiders’ senses was even worse than Harry had described.  Harry had said that trying to listen using spiders was like attempting to hear a conversation through a wall, and that was true enough.  But what Harry had failed to convey was that hearing using spiders’ sense made his whole head buzz with an uncomfortable vibration, as if his head were a gong, and the spiders’ sense of hearing was ringing it. Through gritted teeth, he had mentioned this to Harry, but his friend had only laughed, saying: “It's not that bad.  You kind of get used to it.”  Callidus highly doubted that.

 

To work his way around the fact that spiders simply did not reside in the hospital wing, Callidus had taken to collecting the small creatures, and surreptitiously setting them loose in the infirmary.  This worked for about a day, perhaps two, but the house elves always found them in the end, setting them free outside the castle.  He could tell that it made the matron suspicious to see him visiting the hospital wing so frequently, but of course she could never turn away a potential patient, so she likely thought that Callidus was a hypochondriac, so often did he complain of minor ailments like headaches, sore throats, and sleepless nights. 

 

With that task slotted into his routine, he was able to spend more time and effort thinking of a way to corner the remarkably evasive Caiside, whose avoidance of him was becoming so obvious that even Ginny was starting to notice.

 

 “Did the two of you have a row?” Hermione had asked nearly a fortnight later, brown eyes liquid with concern, during one of their study sessions, as if unable to bear the notion that her friends were in any state of discord. “Caiside seems to get upset when I ask her why she won’t speak to you.”

 

 “I’m not trying to upset her.  I merely wish to speak,” Callidus had replied, to which, Hermione’s worried expression had softened.

 

She patted him on the shoulder (and he only felt a tiny bit nauseated).  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure things will work out.”

 

In the end, it was Hermione (with Ginny’s aid), that gave him the opportunity to finally speak to Caiside. Hermione had sent him a message, asking him to meet with her outside of their regular scheduled study sessions.  It was the time when he would have ordinarily been tutoring Longbottom, but with Longbottom in the magical stasis, he ended up using that time as an extra lab period instead.

 

When he made his way up to the fourth floor classroom, Hermione was waiting for him outside the door, her eyes darting back and forth along the corridor in a way that made him instantly suspicious.

 

He slowed his steps.  “What's going on?”

 

 “You wanted to speak to Caiside, didn't you?  Well, I'm giving you your chance.  Go in!”  She gestured to the classroom. “She should be here any moment.  Just wait.”

 

True to her word, he soon heard a pair of feminine voices outside the door, and moments later, Caiside stumbled into the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

 

 “Hey!”  Caiside jiggled at the door handle, but it appeared that Hermione had locked it. Caiside cursed, turning around to face Callidus, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. “She took my wand!  I can't believe she would do that, and leave me with  _ you _ !”

 

Callidus frowned.  With the way Caiside spoke, it was almost as if she thought he intended to do her harm. “You know I'm not planning to hex you.  I simply wanted to speak to you.  You've been impossible to get a hold of.  One would think that you were avoiding me.”

 

Caiside huffed, crossing her arms. “I  _ am  _ avoiding you.” Her words caused his frown to deepen.  It appeared that the more time she spent in Gryffindor, the more of a Gryffindor she was becoming, bluntness and all. “I have nothing to say to you.  In fact, I'm far too busy revising.”

 

 “Oh?  You never seemed that intent on your academic performance before - not like Hermione or me.  But even Hermione and I, as ambitious as we are about our grades, will still take the time to consider the outside world.  I merely wanted to know why you were so distressed about the idea that the Orange Madness could be created?  One might suspect that you know something.”

 

 “I don't know anything!”  Caiside quickly interjected.

 

Callidus kept his expression impassive. “Perhaps not you specifically.  But -” he paused, noting the tightness of her jaw, “what about your mother?”

 

The blood seem to drain from Caiside's face. “What about my mother.” 

 

 “Your expression suggests that she might know something.  Perhaps her work in potions has given her some knowledge that the rest of us aren't privy to?”

 

Caiside’s eyes took on an obstinate glint. “If mum has knowledge that, as you say, we aren't privy to, then what makes you think that I would know anything?  You know that my mother doesn't discuss her work with me.” 

 

Callidus shrugged, all the while aware that Caiside was acting like a cornered cat, lashing out however she could. “It's just that you've had a rather interesting reaction when I mentioned the idea of the Orange Madness being created - the sort of reaction that instantly cast you in a suspicious light.  After all, if you didn't know anything, why would the idea of the disease being wizard-made affect you?  Your mother is somehow involved in this, isn't she.”

 

Caiside shook her head. “No!  No, she has nothing to do with any of this!  You don't know anything!”  She turned around and began to pound on the door. “ Hermione!  Let me out!  Let me out now!”

 

The door flew open, and Caiside ran out, as if she had a Cerberus on her heels.  Hermione gave her friend a bewildered look, before turning towards Callidus, with a look of accusation. “I thought you just wanted to speak!  What did you say to make her so upset?”

 

Callidus crossed his arms defensively. “I wasn't trying to upset her.  I was just trying to find out why she was avoiding me.”

 

 “And?”

 

Callidus pressed his lips together. “It’s - personal.”

 

Hermione’s eyes drilled into him, before she gave him a curt nod. “I'll speak to her - try and calm her down.”

 

Callidus nodded. “Thank you.” The words were meant both as appreciation for having the opportunity to speak to Caiside, as well as for Hermione’s willingness to try to repair the situation.  She seemed to understand him well enough, and turn to leave to chase after Caiside.  When they were gone, Callidus made his way back down to the dungeons, taking a sedate pace as he tried to sort out his thoughts.  

 

He knew it was a bad idea to make assumptions, but Caiside's actions had been so telling.  More and more, he was certain that Wystan’s hypothesis might very well be fact, and Madam Filodoxos might have something to do with it.  But what could he do with this knowledge?  Even if he spoke to Madam Filodoxos himself, it wasn't as if she would tell him anything.  And worse, whether the disease was manufactured or not, it didn't mean that a cure necessarily existed. 

 

He thought about what he knew of Madam Filodoxos, and what her intentions might be (though he was aware that perhaps her intentions had nothing to do with it, that the disease might be the intention of this mysterious secret company that she worked for).  But people tended to work on projects that aligned with their personal beliefs, didn't they?  Or was such a notion too Hufflepuff-ish to be considered?  But it was true that Madam Filodoxos had strong pureblood values. And he remembered thinking that her perspective towards the disease was rather unconcerned. Wasn't it she who thought that it would be no big deal to go to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping, despite the fact that the majority of wizarding society was in a panic because of the disease?  A normal person wouldn't be so blase about their own well-being or the well-being of their family.  Surely, it meant something. 

 

He had to speak to her.  Silently, he cursed the fact that he had let Draco drag him to Malfoy Manor instead of visiting the Filodoxos’ home.  But he could still write to her couldn't he?  And though he did not want to feed his hopes prematurely, maybe, just maybe, there might already be a cure.  And if there was a cure, then Longbottom and all the other students could be saved. 

 

He shook his head, oblivious to the strange looks he was getting from the other students in the corridors.  He couldn't let his hopes fly away from him.  He had to be realistic. Because if the disease had been created by purebloods with the intention of frightening (or worse, killing) muggleborns, then it suggested that they wouldn’t bother with a cure.  The very idea sent a terrible chill down his spine. Nonetheless, he thought that he had to take the chance. He would write to Madam Filodoxos.  Somehow, he would get to the bottom of this. 

 

Composing a letter to Madam Filodoxos ended up being far more of a challenge than he could have imagined. He was no Gryffindor and had no intention of taking a direct approach.  Besides, only an idiot would confess to such a thing after receiving a letter.  No, he had to be circumspect about this. If he was careless, and if Madam Filodoxos’ secret employers happened to have more power than he realized, then the act of simply putting his name to this letter could put himself in danger.  After all, manufacturing a disease and then inflicting it on wizarding society was no small conspiracy.  And if Longbottom’s life wasn't on the line, then perhaps he would have chosen to play the self-preserving Slytherin, keeping his head down.  But he couldn't keep his head down about this. 

 

In the end, he decided on a brief message, omitting his name:

 

_ I know that the Orange Madness is not a natural disease.  I know that it was created, and that you are involved, and I know your pureblood aims.  If you don't want this information to end up as front page news on the  _ Daily Prophet _ , then I advise that you give me the cure.  I am aware that you may not be able to procure the cure immediately, so I shall send this owl back to you in one week’s time.  I'm sure that you will come to the right decision. _

 

He read and reread it.  It seemed both anonymous enough, and menacing enough, and deciding that he could think of nothing better, he sent it off with one of the school owls.  Hope began to unfurl in his chest once again.  Was this really all it would take to cure the Orange Madness?  But no, he knew that he shouldn't get his hopes up.  And yet, it seemed that he couldn't help himself. 

 

 “Are you close to figuring something out with your potions?” Harry remarked, as the Slytherins were getting ready for bed. “You've been preoccupied lately.”

 

Callidus looked up at Harry, composing his expression before he shrugged. “I might be close to making a breakthrough,” he'd dissembled. Harry gave him an uncertain smile that caused Callidus to pause. 

 

Frowning, Callidus asked: “What is it?”

 

Harry sighed, and began to wring his hands, and Callidus felt a flutter of unease in his gut. “Well, it's just that -” he looked away, and scrunched up his face in frustration. “Argh!  I hate being the bearer of bad news!  And I know the timing is terrible, with exams coming up and all, but -”

 

 “But?”

 

 “It might be a good idea to avoid, you know, sleeping for a while.  Those fifth years, and all.”

 

Callidus’s brows drew downwards. “You heard something from the spiders ears spell?”

 

 “Yeah.” Harry's voice was little more than a whisper.  With his hunched posture on his bed, it almost looked as if he blamed himself.

 

 “Don't worry about me,” Callidus tried to reassure him, doing his best to keep the grimace off his face. “I'll be fine.”

 

 “Are you sure?”

 

He tried to push away the growing sense of dread. “Yeah.  I'll be all right.”

 

-o-

 

Perhaps it was because they were creeping ever closer to the end of the school year, but the fifth year students seemed more determined than ever to inflict whatever mysterious nighttime punishment upon him, and Callidus found himself getting less and less sleep, as he did his best to survive on daytime cat naps. Attempting to focus on classes or revising became more difficult than ever, and he could barely even think about making progress on interpreting the intricacies of magic sight.  It was a good thing that Draco and Harry had taken it upon themselves to make the secret chamber more comfortable, because if Callidus had to think about furniture types and rugs on top of everything else, he was sure that he would have a breakdown, and Madam Pomfrey would have no choice but to keep him in the infirmary, confined his bed. On the other hand, maybe having a mental breakdown wouldn't be such a bad thing, if it really did offer him the chance to stay in the infirmary.  Could he act one out well enough?  But then again, maybe there was no need.  After all, he should be receiving his reply from Madam Filodoxos soon. 

 

He was in History of Magic, Binns’ reedy monotone voice lulling him into the most wonderful state of deep relaxation as he tucked his head into his arms, and drifted in and out of consciousness, when he felt an uncomfortable vibration in his head.  Somehow, he managed to bite back the groan that threaten to escape his lips, recognizing the feeling of the spider ears spell.  He mentally cursed himself for having made it a habit to sneak spiders into the infirmary.  It wasn't as if he was learning anything useful, and worse, now it was disrupting his wonderful day time rest.  Though he knew that he could tune the muffled vibrations out, the part of him that wanted to discover what was wrong with the diseased students was too strong.  So, clenching his jaw against the headache that was sure to come, he forced himself to listen.

 

 “- monitoring...not...better...worried...research….anything?” Despite the horrible distortions, he guessed Madam Pomfrey’s voice from the higher pitch.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut.  He had no clue how Harry could manage to make sense of anything from this spell.  Straining his ears, he continue to listen.

 

 “- doing all we...pursuing multiple...children more vulnerable than we feared...repeat status report?” It was a lower pitched voice that spoke this.

 

 “- about the same... he was the first to be infected...deteriorating.  As for... seems to be holding steady. And Longbottom -”

 

Callidus inhaled sharply, but then, remembering where he was, he remained still.  The other students might find his behaviour odd, but at least Binns would remain oblivious. Somehow, he forced himself to listen even harder.

 

 “Longbottom’s status worries me the most...younger....and though...one of the more recent to be infected...deteriorating the fastest…”

 

He felt as if he had been plunged in cold water.  His earlier sleepiness had completely vanished, and as his heartbeat drummed within his chest, he felt a sense of urgency and panic, as if he had to do something, and yet what could he do? He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing all eyes (even Binns) to focus upon him.

 

 “I'm not feeling well,” he managed to croak out, “I - I need to go to the infirmary.” 

 

 “Very well,” Binns said, with no changed his tone of voice, “and as I was saying, the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards was responsible for the lasting treaty between -”

 

Callidus had his bag packed and was out the door before he could hear the rest. He rushed down the stairs and through the corridors, very nearly running through the ghost of the Fat Friar, before reaching the hospital wing.  Barely waiting for his breaths to become even, he pushed open the door and made his way inside.  The matron spotted him right away, her eyes widening as she noticed his expression.

 

 “I - I -” he realized belatedly that he hadn't thought of a reason for being here.  But Madam Pomfrey merely clucked her tongue before urging him towards one of the beds, and running diagnostics spells on him.

 

 “Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, and you seem to be terribly deprived of sleep.  I know how stressful upcoming exams can be, but that's no reason to neglect your health.”

 

Without thinking, he blurted out: “How are the infected students?  How is Longbottom?”

 

Madam Pomfrey paled. “We are treating them as best as we can.”

 

 “But it's not enough, is it.”

 

 “Mr Prince, I must insist that you calm yourself, for your own sake.  Worrying about the other students will not bring them back any sooner.”  She hurried away towards the potions cabinet, returning with a Calming and Sleeping Draught. “Take this one now - and as for this one, take it before you go to bed.”  Her eyes were piercing, and he couldn't bring himself to protest, swallowing down the Calming Draught quickly.  It was only a few short minutes before he could feel a gentle warmth spreading through him, and a sense of softness that seemed to blanket his mind. 

 

He sighed, looking up at the matron entreatingly. “Can’t you tell me anything about the others?”

 

The matron pursed her lips. “As I said, we're doing all that we can.  Now rest.  If you need me, just call.”  And with one final look over, she left his side and made her way towards her office, leaving him alone. Though Madam Pomfrey did not shut her door behind her, Callidus felt his heart sprinting ever faster as he realized that he might finally have an opportunity to examine the infected students.  He always kept his owl sight potion and Longbottom’s Brew on hand, knowing that it was better to be prepared.

 

Darting a nervous glance towards the matron’s office, he climbed out of his bed, and pulled the phials out of his book bag. Applying the owl sight potion with short work, but just as he uncorked Longbottom’s Brew, ready to vapourize it, Madam Pomfrey’s voice caused him to nearly jumped out of his skin.

 

 “What are you doing out of bed?  If you're feeling rested enough, it's best you make your way to your next class.”

 

Callidus cursed his luck, capping the potion and stuffing it back in his book bag. “I - I was just getting one of my books.”

 

 “Is that so,” the matron said sceptically.  Pulling out her wand, she ran another diagnostic spell, and murmured, “You seem to be fine - have you been casting spells?  I'm detecting a disturbance in your sense of balance.  Let me run some more tests.”

 

Callidus winced.  Could she be detecting the effects of the owl sight potion?  He didn't want to have to explain it. “No!  No, I'm fine.  I'm quite fine.  I'll - just be leaving now.”

 

And before Madam Pomfrey could utter a word of complaint, he grabbed his bag and rushed out the door. As he ambled along the corridors, he once again cursed his luck as well as his tiredness.  It was so hard to think clearly when he was so sleep deprived.  Why hadn't he just admitted to feeling dizzy, so that he could have stayed in the infirmary longer, to potentially investigate the diseased students?  Maybe it wasn't too late?  But no, he realized a moment later that Madam Pomfrey was far too sharp, and if she had sensed a spell on him, she would have spent every moment trying to remove it.  Shaking his head and sighing, he decided to make his way back to the dormitory.  Nothing sounded better then a much-needed afternoon nap.  

 

-o-

 

Callidus was at breakfast, seconds away from falling asleep in his porridge. No matter how many naps he took, it was no substitute for a full night of sleep, and yet, day after day, Harry continued to give him long looks of sympathy and guilt as he said: “I’m sorry.  The fifth years are determined to try again.  Maybe we should tell someone?  Slughorn?”  At this point, Callidus couldn't tell if it was good judgement or not that he still refused to speak to any of the professors.  What were his reasons for not telling anyway?  He was sure that it was something important. 

 

A soft rustling sound announced the arrival of the owl post. Too tired to crane his neck up, he rested more of his weight on his hand, ignoring the irritated looks from some of the other Slytherins for having his elbows on the table.  Just as his eyes drifted closed, he felt something drop on top of his head, before falling forward and nearly landing in his porridge.  Immediately, his eyes widened and his heart began to thump when he realized it was a letter. 

 

He opened the parchment, recognizing Madam Filodoxos’ handwriting, and eagerly, his eyes flew across the page.

 

_ You claims are outlandish and libelous. You have no proof that the Orange Madness was created, and your words are those of a fearful madman.  I insist that you stop owling me with your threats, or I shall have to take action and contact the Aurors. _

 

Callidus sat frozen, not expecting the reply that he had been given. 

 

 “Callidus?  Are you okay?”

 

He started at Harry’s voice, and realized that the letter had become a crinkled mess in his hand. “I’m fine.”

 

 “Erm - all right.”

 

He gave his friend a weak smile, before looking back down at the crumpled parchment.  There was something about the situation, but his sluggish and sleep deprived mine wasn't fully grasping it.  Feeling a sudden anger, he stuffed the letter into his pocket, and forced himself to finish his porridge.  The letter sounded final, and yet some part of him told him that this was, by no means, finished.

 

He was in Herbology, absent-mindedly fertilizing their mandrake root (his tiredness causing him to spill an inordinate amount on the table and floor), when it suddenly hit him. If his initial guess about Madam Filodoxos’ involvement with possibly creating the Orange Madness was wrong, why had it taken her a week to reply?  Why had she not penned out an offended and angry response and sent it with the first owl?  If anything, by waiting a week for his second owl, it suggested that her reply had been carefully planned out.  Or perhaps his exhaustion was slowly driving him insane and he was grasping at straws.  But then, he found himself thinking of Longbottom’s open and friendly face.  Cursed Gryffindors!  They were the bane of his existence! But for Longbottom’s sake, he would write back to Madam Filodoxos.  Whether this was merely grasping at straws or not, he would see this through to the end.


	39. Chapter 39

 “Callidus.” 

 

Hermione spoke his name with such hesitance and caution that he immediately bolted upwards, realizing that he may have lowered his guard and fallen asleep on the table.  He blinked at her, hoping that his expression was composed, his eyebrows lifting slightly.  In the fourth floor classroom where they studied, the stretch of silence was especially weighty, though silence was less of a burden than having Gryffindors fretting about him.  He was aware that Ginny and Caiside were looking at him as well, though Caiside’s expression was chilled in contrast to the concern in Hermione’s and Ginny’s eyes. He wasn't certain which was worse, but as Hermione leaned towards him, he decided that Caiside’s coldness was preferable to this invasive worry, though in Caiside’s case, it was because she still hadn't forgiven him for his remarks, even if she was no longer avoiding him. 

 

 “We're worried about you,” Hermione continued, as Callidus attempted to unobtrusively edge away from that encroaching concern.

 

 “You have no reason to worry.” Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say because Hermione’s expression became obstinate.

 

 “You were just napping on the table!” Ginny pointed out. “And it wasn't even the first time this week! You've got circles under your eyes that look like bruises, skin tone that might cause people to mistake you for an inferius, and you aren't making cutting remarks.” 

 

Callidus narrowed his eyes at Ginny. “It seems too merciful to waste wit on someone too feeble-minded to understand it.”

 

Caiside shook her head. “ Weak.  So weak.”

 

 “Oh, what would you know?” Callidus snapped.

 

 “Stop!” Hermione interposed. “Enough of this!  There's no reason to be so childish.  We're just trying to help you.  As Ginny pointed out, you haven't been yourself lately.  Even if you have no concern for your physical well-being, what about your grades?  I've noticed you struggling with some of the practice questions we've been given.”

 

Callidus scowled.  “I'm having no trouble with the material.” 

 

 “I didn't say that,” Hermione said, slowly and gently, and just shy of patronizing. “But exams are coming up, and surely you can't deny that you haven't quite been, well, in top form.”  She studied him for a moment, and he glanced away, unable to meet her eyes. 

 

 “I said, I’m fine.” This time, his words came out as more of a growl. 

 

Alarmingly, Hermione's expression only became more sympathetic. “I had a feeling you’d say that.  You know, there's no shame in seeking help when you need it.  You're just one person, and no one would expect one person to stand up to a group of their upperclassmen.”

 

He narrowed his eyes.  “What makes you think this has anything to do with the fifth years?  Besides, I imagine the greater shame would be pushing other people too hard and losing their friendship.”

 

 “You wouldn't!” Ginny cried.

 

But Hermione remained firm, showing that side of her that was more Gryffindor than Ravenclaw. “It's not hard to guess that you're having problems with the fifth years when you clam up about it anytime we ask.  You might think that you're being subtle, but everything about the way you behave gives it away.  But friends help one another.  And since we’re your friends, we're helping you, whether you want it or not.  It's hardly our fault if you're too pigheaded to seek help when you need it.  You should have spoken to an adult about this whole thing months ago.” 

 

 “You've helped me enough.  In fact, I'm returning to the dungeons.  There's a great deal that I have yet to do.”

 

With surprising speed, Hermione reached a hand out with a folded note between her fingers.  The expression in her eyes was unyielding. “Take it.”

 

He gave her suspicious look, before snatching the note from her hands, and reading it. When he realized what was on the note, his nostrils flared, and a red haze of rage passed across his eyes. Teeth clenched and voice dangerously low, he said: “You spoke of my personal problems to Dumbledore?” 

 

 “He's in the best position to help you,” Hermione stubbornly argued.

 

 “Dumbledore?”  he repeated furiously. “If you are so concerned, why not just bring the issue to Madam Pomfrey?”

 

 “Because Madam Pomfrey would have just treated your symptoms.  There's a deeper issue, and it's clear to everyone but you that you can't handle it on your own.  You're going to visit the Headmaster's office tonight, and if you don't show up, he's going to know that something is wrong, and we're just going to have to get more people involved.  I'm sure Professor Slughorn would be more than willing to speak to you.  Or if you're not comfortable with him, you can always speak to Professor McGonagall.”

 

 “No!” Callidus burst out.  “No. No Slughorn, and no McGonagall.  I'll speak to Dumbledore, but it will be on  _ my  _ terms.”

 

Hermione nodded with a look of satisfaction, relaxing back in her chair, reminding him of a lion that had sheathed its claws. Merlin save him from Gryffindors. 

 

Though his meeting with Dumbledore was only a few hours away, he found himself disinclined to spend the rest of his evening with the Gryffindors; especially not after what they had done.  Besides, he needed the time to organize his thoughts, and consider what he would say to the Headmaster.  Moments later, he was once again cursing his fate, and cursing his wretched tiredness, because if he had been clear-minded, he would have thought to ask the Gryffindors what, precisely, they had said to Dumbledore.  He debated turning back, but in the end decided that he couldn't bear to see their smug faces (though if he was honest with himself, they were more likely to look worried than smug.)  He would just have to act with his normal caution, giving away as little information as possible, and letting the Headmaster lead the conversation. Such thoughts weren't terribly reassuring, but they were better than nothing.

 

By the time he made his way towards Dumbledore's office for their appointment, his anger remained hot within him, rather than chilling to something more frigid and controlled.  He knew that it was because he was sleep deprived, that in this state, he could not hope to match wits with the wily Headmaster, but he did not doubt Hermione when she said that by avoiding this appointment, he would only be making things worse for himself. 

 

With an aggravated sigh, he muttered: “Cockroach clusters,” and made his way up the stairs to that familiar circular office.  It was strange to think that only a year ago, he was so much closer to Professor Dumbledore.  He supposed that he had been unmoored then, uprooted from everything that was familiar to him and tossed into a new world, not only losing his parents and Lily, but shedding the trappings of all that was muggle-related, and immersing himself in wizarding society.  Strange to think that all that existed now was a new life that he was building for himself, one accomplishment at a time.

 

 “Good evening, Callidus.” Dumbledore's blue eyes were bright and merry, appearing every bit the genial and dotty grandfather, complete with shimmering copper-colored robes, embroidered with arcing bronze sparks that swirled and faded against the light.  It was strange how, despite his ridiculous garb, the man was never swallowed by his clothing, but seem to own each inch of fabric with his deep, immovable confidence.

 

 “Good evening, Professor.” It wasn't that Callidus was in the mood for pleasantries, it was merely that he did not trust himself in his current, mentally deficient state.  Most of his energy was directed towards keeping his expression impassive.

 

 “Lemon sherbert?” 

 

Callidus eyed the candies mistrustfully, but as far as he could remember, Dumbledore's candies had never held any sort of trap.  He realized that he was dithering, trying to buy himself time and avoid the confrontation that was already nipping at his heels.

 

 “No, thank you,” he answered, after an inordinately long moment staring at that proffered dish of yellow sweets.

 

 “I understand that your friends are concerned about you.”

 

Callidus silently cursed. Shouldn't there have been more trifling remarks, words scattered here and there as the Headmaster danced around the main point?  But wait - as much as Dumbledore might have enjoyed verbal fencing, he was still a Gryffindor.  Now to come up with a suitable response.

 

 “Gryffindor's are ever sticking their noses where they don't belong.”  Should he sneer or not?  Merlin, was he second-guessing even his body language?  He wanted so badly to return to his dormitory for a long nap. 

 

 “Ah, but one of the benefits of good friends is that they may offer a fresh set of eyes, a new perspective, if you will.”

 

 “But those on the outside can still fail to grasp the complexities of a situation.”

 

Dumbledore gave him a lingering look, before Callidus swiftly dropped his eyes, belatedly remembering that the old man was capable of reading minds. Had he already given everything away?  And yet, wouldn't he have sensed the intrusion in his mind?  He couldn't let his burgeoning anxiety rattle his composure, but already, his body was betraying him, his stomach fluttering uneasily.

 

 “I am not here to force you to do or reveal anything against your will, Callidus,” Dumbledore said, letting his gentle voice wash over Callidus’s nerves. “I cannot make you seek help if you do not wish to have help.  I can only say that you need only ask if you find yourself struggling with something. It isn’t my intention to obstruct you.”

 

The words startled him.  Was the Headmaster speaking of his current situation, or was he obliquely referencing what had happened last year?  Curse his lack of sleep!  Curse those fifth years for stirring up such trouble in his life.  Dumbledore's words were tempting - more tempting than he could have imagined when he was angrily pacing the corridors earlier in the evening.  Nothing sounded better then to unburden himself to someone powerful enough to take care of his problems, and yet, this was Dumbledore.  As much as he wanted to let loose, and then curl himself up in his bed to sleep days and days away, he couldn't bring himself to trust the other man. 

 

But there was something he wanted that wasn't a matter of trust.  There was something he wanted and perhaps Dumbledore was the only person who could help him in this.  He lifted up his eyes, not meeting the Headmaster's, but staring toward the frame of a portrait behind him.  Should he take the plunge?  He couldn't think of any reasons why not.  On the other hand, he was tired enough that he couldn't think of much reasons for anything at all.

 

 “I would like help learning Occlumency.” 

 

Just as calmly, Dumbledore asked: “You have a good reason for this?”

 

 “The pursuit of knowledge,” Callidus answered, a biting edge to his words that he couldn’t repress.

 

 “While a worthy goal, I'm sure that you know that the pursuit of knowledge isn't an unequivocal good. Surely, if you have such a strong desire to learn this obscure art, you have a deeper reason for doing so.”

 

Callidus compressed his lips, if only to keep himself from lashing out.  He could feel his ire like a flow of magma in his veins, but that tiny voice of collected reason gripped him tight, warning him that this was no place to lose his temper, that his anger was borne of lack of sleep, and not the labyrinth of words from the old man.

 

For a long moment, the only sound that filled the space between them was the soft trilling of Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes.  How much did Callidus want to learn Occlumency?  He searched himself, trying to grasp the threads of his situation, though it was like wading through molasses. But when it came to him, the answer was simple.  He wanted to learn Occlumency as much as he wanted to sleep, and he dearly wanted to sleep.

 

 “I want to be able to protect myself,” Callidus finally admitted. 

 

Though Dumbledore's posture remained the same, Callidus felt a shift in the energy of the room, a sudden alertness. “Are you in some sort of danger?”

 

Callidus had no desire to admit to such a thing.  He wanted to believe that he could take care of his problems on his own.  But even if he did reveal his suspicions about the fifth years, what evidence did he have?  Still, he thought he could admit to  _ something  _ without telling the full truth. “I'm not certain.  I have a sense that something isn't right, but without the means to fully protect myself, I cannot gain a sense of what I am facing.”

 

He still would not meet the Headmaster's eyes, but he could feel the other man's assessment, weighing and cataloging each word, judging his worthiness.  He was suddenly glad of his exhaustion; he might want to fall asleep upon Dumbledore's desk, but at least he wasn't squirming.

 

 “I do not have the time to give you personal lessons.  That said, I'm still willing to give you what help I can.”  The Headmaster stood up and glided over to one of the bookshelves in the office, pulling out of the titles without first reading it.  Did Dumbledore somehow know the precise location of each book he had on his shelf?  Callidus wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case. 

 

Gravely, Dumbledore handed Callidus the book. “Understand that what I'm giving you is for your eyes only.  Occlumency is not approved by the Ministry, and indeed, it is an art that most witches and wizards are not even aware of.  I'm giving you this book not because I have been persuaded of your need for self-defense, but because I  _ trust  _ you.  I expect you to return it by the end of the year.”

 

Callidus was certain that Dumbledore's words were deliberately crafted to tug on his emotions.  He wanted to think that he would not fall prey to such obvious manipulations, and yet the Headmaster's words, and the look in his eyes sat heavily upon him. 

 

Taking the book with both hands, Callidus said: “I understand.” And despite his exhaustion, and the pressures of exams, diseases, and too many other things, Callidus felt the smallest seed of hope budding within him.

 

-o-

 

The end of the year burst upon Callidus with alarming rapidity, his days and nights blurred by words upon pages mingled with the ever-pervading feeling of exhaustion. The only day in which he managed a long stretch of desperately-needed sleep was Beltane, knowing that the majority of the Slytherins would be revelling.  He was aware that missing the festivities could affect his social standing within Slytherin, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Contrary to what he might have expected, his heavy hours of sleep only served to make him feel worse, as if he had been run down by a herd of bicorns. 

 

Callidus had become something of an expert at stealing minutes of sleep during his day, keeping his head hidden behind his course books in classes, nodding off during his lab sessions, and resting his head on the back of armchairs in the common room.  Unfortunately, as skilled as he might have been in sneaking in moments of sleep, he seemed to lose skills in an inverse measure in everything else, barely able to keep up with conversations, news, and studying.  Whatever paltry measure of intellectual acuity that he still had was spent on trying to learn Occlumency.  

 

But there was one unexpected advantage to this state of incessant sleep deprivation: he was too tired to worry about Longbottom.  Of course, on a rational level he was deeply concerned. The spider ears spell (which seem to feel worse in proportion to his tiredness) had kept him abreast of Longbottom's status, and that status was unquestionably dire. Strange to think that good-natured, round-faced, clumsy Longbottom could die.  But thinking was all Callidus did, and he didn't even do it well.  Because as fatigued as he was, he certainly couldn't  _ feel  _ anything. The limits of his feelings were that scratchy wooliness between his ears, and the inescapable pressure around his eyes.  But such things were physical feelings.  His emotions had long ago scurried away to some unknown place in his brain, only to die, abandoned and inconsequential. 

 

His friends, both the Gryffindors, as well as Harry and Draco, were understandably worried.  But it was easy enough to fob off Hermione and her lot by telling them that he had been to see Dumbledore and had already done all that he could.  As for Harry and Draco, he was fairly certain that they believed him when he told them that he was merely stressed by exams and revisions, and even if they didn't believe him, he was certainly too tired to care.  Besides, they were both still preoccupied by their chances of winning the Quidditch cup, since the Slytherins had slaughtered the Hufflepuffs in the mid-month match nearly a week ago (thanks in no small part to the advantage of the team’s racing brooms).  The odds were looking good for the Slytherins.

 

At the moment, he was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, listlessly poking holes into his food, and barely even sensing the arrival of the owl post, despite the way that the flap of their wings ruffled his limp hair.  He thought that Pansy might have made a disparaging remark about his appearance, but then again, her remark about oiliness might have been about the food and not his hair. 

 

Next to him, he heard Harry whispering: “Finally!” And that caused him to sit up and take heed.  Finally what?  He peered over at Harry, and even with his dulled wits, it was clear that Harry’s expression was gleeful.  It didn’t take an expert to be able to read Harry’s face.  Frankly, it was a blessing that he managed to be even a little more subtle than a Hufflepuff (which wasn’t saying much). 

 

Following Harry’s gaze, he was unsurprised to see that Harry was looking towards Rowle.  Harry might not be subtle, but his ability to act in stealth was at least Slytherin-worthy.  Callidus still had no clue what Harry had been doing in regard to the seventh year girl. 

 

Rowle appeared to be drinking pumpkin juice and looking more-or-less normal.  Callidus frowned and narrowed his eyes.  No, not normal.  There was an air about her, a subdued but undeniable sprightliness that lifted her features and made one almost think that she could be a nice person.  She looked - happy?  In fact, she wasn’t sitting next to her usual friends, but was sitting next to one of the Slytherin boys,  (De Vere, or something like that, whom Callidus recognized from ARMED).  Rowle was then reaching for something on the table, and when her hand brushed against De Vere’s and they both blushed and smiled.  He tried to rack his brain, searching for some mention that Pansy might have made about a new couple, but all he could mentally hear was Pansy’s garbled voice rambling about hair, Crabbe and Goyle, and the cruelty of teachers.  Useless!

 

Mystified, his gaze skated back towards Harry, who looked incredibly pleased, but his green eyes were watching both Rowle, De Vere and the owls.  It occurred to him that over the weeks, he had noticed Harry observing Rowle when Rowle was busy looking at someone across the table.  Had that someone been De Vere?  Had Harry set them up?  Callidus shook his head.  Merlin, he really needed sleep.  His thoughts were becoming ridiculous!

 

Still, he watched the scene with Rowle, because Harry, though attempting not to stare, was still for all intents and purposes, staring. A barn owl swooped down towards the seventh years, carelessly dropping what look like a rolled magazine on Rowle’s plate, and Callidus had a sudden feeling of where this was going.  It may have been months ago, but he hadn't forgotten his earlier conversations with Harry about muggle magazine subscriptions.

 

 “Harry, are you even paying attention to me?” he heard Draco say.  But his words seemed far away, like something from the end of a tunnel, not only to Callidus but apparently Harry as well.  And Draco, while sometimes oblivious, was far from stupid, following Harry's line of sight to the seventh years, where a small drama was set to burst. 

 

The seventh years around Rowle were leaning forward towards the magazine in curiosity. They certainly weren't acting shocked and appalled like Callidus would have expected, if she had received a muggle magazine.  But then, what was Harry so excited about?  He was clutching his utensils so tightly that he might have been trembling underneath his robes. 

 

And then it happened.  The boy next to Rowle, De Vere, leaned forward and tapped his wand on the magazine, and the cover changed from a tasteful green to lurid pinks and purples, with giant flashing words, and a woman on the cover.  The seventh years leaned in even closer, all of them trying to make sense of the cover of Rowle’s magazine, when they all reared back, as if a venomous snake had just been dropped in their midst (and as highly as Slytherins may have regarded snakes, they were rightly cautious).

 

Across from him, he heard Pansy asking: “What is Euphie reading?  Is that a -”

 

Rowle was still in her seat, her face bloodless.  She was shaking her head, staring down at the magazine cover as if it were her own personal nightmare, and Callidus suspected that this wasn't far from the truth.  The Slytherins around her had not stood up (they would never make a gesture so overt as to draw the eyes of all the other students in the Great Hall) but had shifted in their seats so that they were sitting a clear distance apart from Rowle. 

 

Even from the other end of the table, Callidus could make out the words on Rowle’s lips, though he couldn't hear her: “This isn't mine.  This isn't mine.”

 

One of Rowle’s friends was pointing down at it accusingly, expression horrified and betrayed, clear to see only because she was sitting with her back to the rest of the hall, the expression sending shockwaves through the Slytherin table. 

 

 “Can't deny it, when it's got your name on it, Rowle,” Harry said, so low that Callidus thought he was the only one to have heard, until he saw Draco's mouth drop open.

 

How was Callidus to make sense of all of this?  He wished that there was a spell that could drive the fogginess from his mind, to keep him from sinking into the grasping hands of his lassitude.  That Harry was somehow at the very heart of this, he had no doubt, but had Harry really sent Rowle a muggle magazine under a glamour?  How would he have guessed that the other Slytherins would reveal the illusory cover?  Because if that had been Harry’s plan all along, it ranked incredibly high in terms of being a remarkable piece of manipulation.  After all, no one would believe Rowle would subscribe to a muggle magazine herself, but if that magazine was under a glamour to look like something else?  He never would have guessed that Harry could think so many steps ahead, even for a mere prank, even if it involved Rowle whom Harry loathed to the core of his being. 

 

 “What is this about?” Draco was hissing, his hands grasping at Harry's arm. “What did you do?” 

 

But Harry seemed to have lost his grip on himself, because a helpless laugh was burbling from his mouth, and no amount of pressing his lips together could stop it. The other second years were looking at him askance, and as if realizing that his emotions could undo him, Harry reined in his laughter, his amusement showing only in the dancing brightness of his eyes.  And as much as Callidus dislike Rowle, still he never imagined a situation where he might find himself laughing at the stricken expression on her face, the white trembling lips and limp trembling hands, the way Harry was.  Was this the Harry he knew?

 

And then, as if matters weren’t bewildering enough, a loud horn-like sound blared mournfully through the Great Hall, followed by inhuman whoops, and reed-like warbles and keening notes.   Where was the sound even coming from?  Now it wasn't only the Slytherins who are frozen in their seats but everyone else as well.

 

 “Merlin, was that today?”  Callidus heard Harry mutter. “I should have asked Luna to trigger it another day -” but his words were drowned out by the cacophony of sounds around them, coming not from a person, not from a thing, but from the very stones of Hogwarts itself. 

 

Suddenly, Draco stood up, and Harry was jerked from his seat with no warning.  Sleep-fogged though he was, Callidus knew that this involved him and stood up as well, following Draco as he all but dragged Harry out of the Great Hall.  The chaotic sounds around them meant that their departure was entirely unseen.  Callidus stepped upon a stone that let out a melodic whistle, and even in his muddled state, he could work out that certain stones had been spelled to make noises, effectively turning Hogwarts into a musical instrument.

 

Was it the Weasleys again?  Though they might not have owned up to the bird and whipped cream prank, everyone thought it was them.  But then, what did Harry mean about Luna ‘triggering it?’  Did they even know anyone that went by the name Luna?  Draco led them around a bend, up a flight of stairs, before pulling Harry into a partially secluded alcove, with Callidus at their heels.

 

 “Was this you?” Draco was asking, his gray eyes sparking with some dark and unreadable emotion.

 

Harry's expression became conflicted, losing his earlier glee. “Was what -” 

 

Clutching the front of Harry's robes, Draco yanked him closer, before suddenly slamming him against the wall of the alcove, a move shocking in its physicality, for Draco always thought problems were meant to be solved with wands and not force. “Was this you?  Euphemia Rowle and - and -” Draco's expression was wild, nostrils flaring.

 

 “Draco -” Callidus cut in warningly, but his friend was deaf to him.

 

 “You wouldn't have understood -” Harry stammered out, green eyes wide and confused. 

 

 “And even this - this ruckus?” 

 

In Callidus’s dulled state, it took a moment for him to realize that Draco was referencing this newest prank, if prank was what it was.  The noises that had seemed so clamorous and pervasive before were now a distant thing, meaningless in the face of the words, both said and unsaid, between them.

 

Brows drawn together, Harry said: “You would have thought it was stupid - you think all pranks to make people feel better are st-”

 

 “You didn't even think to tell me?”  Draco demanded, voice breaking, pressing Harry closer to the wall. “You didn't even  _ try _ -”

 

 “I -”

 

 “And maybe I wouldn't have understood,” Draco continued in a rush, “but I thought we were brothers - I thought -” 

 

Harry was shaking his head, looking pained.  “I’m sorry - I -”

 

And suddenly the worst feeling that Callidus had ever felt ripped through his chest, as if a beast made entirely of claws and fangs was trying to shred his heart to bits.   Distantly, like spots in his peripheral vision, he was aware of the sudden heavy magic that surrounded him and those near to him, setting his magical sensitivity ablaze though he was making no effort to sense out the magic in the air, but he couldn't think of such things through the searing whiteness of pain. He fell to his knees, but the jarring of his bones against stone was nothing to the terrible shattering within his chest.  He thought that he might have been screaming, but he couldn't tell.  When blackness came, it was a mercy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post an extra chapter mid-week since this one ends in a cliff-hanger


	40. Chapter 40

When Callidus opened his eyes, he was in the one place that he had hoped to be, which also happened to be the one place where he hadn't expected to find himself. 

 

 “Don't try and sit-up,” Madam Pomfrey commanded, hovering over him, her strident words belied by the evident concern in her eyes.  Had something happened?   Had one of his attempts to land himself in a prolonged stay in the infirmary been successful?   As he shifted, he gasped, feeling as if his chest had been packed by shards of glass, the pain shrill and making stars burst in the corner of his vision.  But then, there was something at his lips, sliding down his throat, and blessed moments later, the bright pain became a bearable dull ache.

 

 “What happened?” he rasped out. 

 

 “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me, Mr Prince,” the matron said wryly. 

 

 “I -”

 

She cut him off.  “I’d best let the Headmaster know you’re awake.  He’ll want to hear this, and I imagine you aren’t in any state to have to repeat yourself.”

 

No state to have to repeat himself?  What exactly had he done?  His eyes followed Madam Pomfrey as she rushed off to her office, before he thought to take full measure of his surroundings.  He had thought to find himself alone.  But when his eyes fell upon two familiar heads, one with raven black hair, and one silver blond, he gasped yet again, and the dullness in his chest took on an uncomfortable saw-toothed edge.  He squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily willing away the reality of the situation, but when he opened his eyes again, Harry and Draco were still there, lying unconscious on the beds next to him. Think!  He had to think. He needed to remember what happened, because it was there, skittering nervously along the edges of his memory. 

 

He could remember being exhausted.  In fact, his mind was sharper now, despite being bedridden in the infirmary, than it had been in the past few weeks.  How had he let himself get into such a state?  His lips pulling into a grimace, he reminded himself that it was because he wasn’t good enough yet.  Though Dumbledore had lent him that book on Occlumency, trying to pick up the skill through the written medium was akin to trying to learn to play the harpsichord from a textbook.  But he knew that his reason for being in the hospital wing had nothing to do with the fifth years. 

 

He could remember noise, a terrible racket reminiscent of an orchestra made up entirely of people who were tone deaf.  And Rowle!  Harry had finally succeeded in venting fourth his terrible vengeance upon Rowle. It had been rather spectacular - if Callidus could actually remember any details of it.  But he did have a vague recollection of being rather awestruck. And then - and then -

 

Draco!  And anger.  And alcoves.  And pain, so much pain.  Pain, as if -

 

No, it couldn’t be.  And yet, Draco’s words: ‘I thought we were brothers.’

 

Brothers.  Brothers.  What had Draco said last year?  It seemed like so long ago.  And the pain.  Pain reminiscent of his heart shattering.  The anguish of heartbreak. Callidus shook his head, unwilling to believe it.  What they were experiencing now couldn't have anything to do with their brotherhood bond, could it?  How could such a thing even be possible?  His breathing was becoming ever more shallow, the shards in his chest taking on a razor edge, and suddenly, Madam Pomfrey was once again at his side, tipping something down his throat.

 

 “In and out,” she said soothingly. “That's it, deep, calm breaths.  Better?”

 

Callidus nodded. When he once again took stock of his surroundings, he caught sight of the Headmaster, unmistakable in his garish robes and powerful thrum of magic, behind the matron.

 

 “Is he well enough to speak?” Dumbledore was asking.

 

Madam Pomfrey’s lips were pressed into a censorious line. “He shouldn’t even be awake now.  If not for the other two - well, you know very well what  _ I _ think, Albus.”

 

 “I know.  I wouldn’t have asked for this if not for greater need of the three.”

 

Madam Pomfrey answered that with only a harrumph, and Dumbledore stepped up to his bedside.

 

 “Hello, Callidus,” the Headmaster said, and though he was not garbed in his full grandfatherly persona, the words were warm and kind. 

 

 “Harry and Draco,” Callidus broke out.  He needed to know.

 

Dumbledore’s blue eyes were apologetic, and the implication of that look was like ice in Callidus’s veins, running straight to his heart, and then it was white sharpness and then -

 

 “This is a bad idea, Albus!” Madam Pomfrey cried.  “He needs rest!”

 

 “Unfortunately, this is one matter that rest won’t fix,” Dumbledore answered, regretfully.  “Powerful magic is involved here.   _ Old _ magic.” He returned his attention to Callidus.  “Can you tell me what happened?”

 

Callidus didn't want to tell the Headmaster anything.  The very idea went against his instincts, making his hackles want to rise. If this was related to their brotherhood bond, then shouldn't it be between the three of them?  But then it occurred to Callidus that Dumbledore already knew.  He had been closer to Dumbledore last year, and remembered the old man making reference to it. He silently cursed.  He had been so much more trusting then, had revealed so much to the Headmaster. 

 

Trying to draw in a steadying breath, he repeated: “Harry and Draco.  Please - are they all right?”

 

Dumbledore gave him a measured look.  “Your friends are in very grave condition.  They are under a stasis spell now, and we’ve been doing what we can to stem the damage that has already been done.  But -” he hesitated, “the stasis only keeps them in the state they are in.  If we were to release it, the magic would -”

 

 “Kill them,” Callidus finished weakly.

 

 “We’re hoping it won’t come to that.”

 

Something occurred to Callidus.  “How long have we been here?”

 

Dumbledore hesitated.  “Nearly a week.”

 

Callidus paled, his mind reeling.  “But what about me?” Callidus wondered. “Why am I - am I - while they -” he couldn’t form the question he wanted to ask.

 

 “You are affected as well, but not as severely as both your friends,” Dumbledore explained. “Whatever magic that has enveloped the three of you, you seem to be on the periphery of this.” 

 

Callidus thought back to that moment in the alcove. He thought of the look in Draco's eyes as he interrogated Harry.  At the time, Callidus had been too weary to make sense of it.  But now, as he replayed what he remembered, he thought it must have been betrayal in Draco eyes. After all, Callidus had been aware that Harry had been hiding something.  The second prank, the obnoxiously noisy one, he had no clue about, but Harry wasn't awake and Callidus couldn't exactly ask him if indeed he had been responsible.  He let it a long and uncomfortable exhale, realizing that he was beyond his depths.

 

Looking back in Dumbledore's direction, he said: “I think it's the brotherhood bond.”

 

 “Can you tell me the process it involved?”

 

Callidus’s eyebrows swept upwards.  It hadn't occurred to him that there might be more than one type of brotherhood ritual, but he supposed it was no surprise.  He explained the process of the daggers, the mingled blood, the intent, and the magic.

 

 “There were no incantations?”

 

Callidus shook his head. “No.”

 

Dumbledore let out a contemplative hum. “It will take me time to find the right spell so that we might fix this.  But for now, it's best for you to rest.  I have the sense that you'll play a central role in what's to come.” Callidus nodded, and after a few soft spoken words to Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore left. 

 

Disapproval still clear on her face, the matron checked him over with a quick diagnosis spell, before handing him a phial of potion.  He glanced at the small glass container, instantly recognizing what it was. His heart surged up his throat.  The last thing he wanted to do was sleep, after having been unconscious for nearly a week.

 

 “I won't need it,” Callidus said, pushing the Sleeping Draught back towards Madam Pomfrey. “To be honest, I'm already moments from nodding off.”

 

The matron gave him along and suspicious look, but then sighed and shook her head. “Young people are so stubborn,” he heard her mutter under her breath.  But to his relief, she didn't force the matter, and after checking over him once again, she returned to her office. 

 

After an indeterminable wait, in which each passing minute seemed to drag its feet, Callidus decided that now was as good a chance as any.  He glanced back towards Harry and Draco, pushing away his mournful feelings at the sight of them.  He could do nothing for them know, but with Dumbledore's help, perhaps he could help them later.  He  _ had  _ to be able to help them later.  But for now, the long-awaited opportunity had arisen.  He was ensconced within the bowels of the infirmary, and he could finally examine the students that had been infected by the Orange Madness. 

 

He felt his pulse leaping when it occurred to him that he didn't know if he had his school bag.  But as he pushed himself up, each centimeter slow and measured to ease the pain in his chest, he checked each side of his bed, and exhaled with relief when he spotted his book bag.  He also happened to notice a number of get well cards and letters on the nearby bed stand table, but it didn't seem important at the moment. 

 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, biting back a sharp intake of breath from the jagged twinges that seemed to spark one another, scattering needle-like pricks through his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted his breath, and let his mind clear into a hazy softness, implementing one of his Occlumency exercises.  He took the physical pain that he felt, and imagined shutting it away in a cupboard, the same way he would shut away unneeded potions ingredients.  To his relief, his mental exercise seem to have helped.  After another cautious glance towards Madam Pomfrey’s office, he pushed himself to his feet. 

 

A wave of intense dizziness washed over him, tilting the infirmary in alarming angles, but it was only until a sense of nausea arose that he sat back down.  He needed to think.  Perhaps it would be better to apply the owl sight potion first, and then vapourize Longbottom's Brew once he was nearer to the infected students.  Just because he was all but hospitalized, it didn't mean that he needed to act rashly. 

 

The owl sight potion did nothing to ameliorate his sense of dizziness, and only amplified his nausea, but having taken that step hardened his resolve. After a bracing breath, he stood up, letting his weight lean against the bed until the infirmary was no longer spinning.  Longbottom’s brew in hand, he pushed away from the bed, sliding his feet along the floor when he realized that taking actual steps only served to jar his head, making it ring and vibrate like a bell.  He kept his eyes pinned towards the curtains that cordoned off the infected students.  To turn his head now and look towards Madam Pomfrey’s office would only set his delicate balance in disarray.

 

By the time he had slid over to the privacy curtains, he was panting, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion.  The dull throb in his chest was once again jangling his nerves and becoming something more threatening, but he ignored it.  It was maddeningly effortful to uncork the phial of Longbottom’s brew, but he managed it after four tries, and then, it was only a matter of uttering a spell to vapourize it.  

 

Waiting for the vapourized potion to work took so long that Callidus feared the stasis spell might have interfered with the effectiveness of Longbottom's Brew.  However, when he began to notice the streams of yellow and white that emerged from the prone bodies, he exhaled gratefully.  As the loops and whirls of magic appeared around the infected students, a clear pattern began to emerge - one which was less of a surprise than he expected. Aside from the student in Ravenclaw who had hints of bronze in their magical signature, the rest of the students were surrounded by mostly yellows and whites.  But it was the sight of Longbottom which shocked him the most. 

 

The last time he had seen Longbottom's magic, it had been vivid and bright, leaping around him in brilliant arcs that seemed to have a life of their own.  But that magic was now dulled and sluggish, the arches of magic lying low across his body as if it did not even have the energy to leap forth from his skin.  The sight of it terrified him more than he could have imagined.  It was one thing to hear Madam Pomfrey talking about how Longbottom was deteriorating; it was another matter to witness it with his own eyes.

 

Though he still hadn't learned to interpret all the colours of magic, he knew enough to know that having only white or yellow in one’s magical signature suggested that a person hadn't ever used Dark magic or Old magics, such as Earth magics.  He couldn't feel comfortable drawing conclusions from such a small sample, and yet, he couldn't stop himself from speculating.  What if the Orange Madness didn't attack those with muggle blood, but instead attacked those who only ever practiced Light magic, or other forms of magic approved by the Ministry?  If the Orange Madness was based on that, then it would still disproportionately affect muggleborns and half-bloods over purebloods.

 

He wanted to rush down to his lab immediately.  Or if not that, then he needed to write a letter to Wystan.  Wystan already had researchers working on this very issue.  If Callidus tried to take care of it himself, would he even be able to save Longbottom in time?  Once again, his pulse was beginning to accelerate, and after another wave of dizziness, he knew he needed to get back to his bed.  He began to slide his feet back, pushing past the privacy curtains, but then he felt an intense jolt of agony in his chest, and collapsed.

 

He was just so weary.  And now that he was down, he didn't think he could push himself back up.  With a sigh, he closed his eyes. 

 

-o-

 

When Callidus next awoke, he was back in the hospital bed, and the shadowed light that entered through the infirmary windows suggested either dawn or dusk. It disoriented him to have no sense of the time. This time, both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore were by his bedside, the matron’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

 

His memories of what he had done came back in a rush, and he managed to croak out an apology.  If there was one person he didn't want anger, it was Madam Pomfrey.  After all, so long as he was in the infirmary, he was in her power.  He cringed back into his bed, waiting for her to castigate him for his recklessness, thanking the fates for the fact that he hadn't crumbled while he was still examining the disease students.  If that had been the case, he wasn't sure how he would explain himself.  Fortunately, before Madam Pomfrey could speak, Dumbledore came to the rescue. 

 

 “How are you feeling, Callidus?”

 

Callidus grimaced.  “Like someone replaced my lungs with broken potion phials.”

 

 “Unsurprising when you don’t have the good sense to stay in your bed,” the matron muttered, but she was uncorking a phial of potion and handing it to him.  He recognized it as a pain reliever, and gratefully drank it down, barely noticing the pungent taste.

 

 “Why were you out of bed?” the Headmaster asked, eyes bright with a touch of impishness.

 

 “I - well - bathroom!  I wished to use the bathroom.”

 

The matron narrowed her eyes.  “The bathroom is in the opposite direction of where you had collapsed.”

 

 “I was - disoriented.”

 

The pair of them paused, weighing the truth of his words, but to Callidus’s relief, they let the matter drop.  He thought about what he had learned - about how the infected students had a magical signature that made them vulnerable to the disease.  Could he tell Madam Pomfrey?  The thought tempted him, until he realized that most of wizarding society didn’t know that magic could be seen, and how could he ever explain?  Especially since some part of him couldn’t bear the thought of revealing magic sight to others.  It was too wonderful, and it was  _ his _ , and  _ his alone _ .  He would have to trust Wystan.  Wystan would help. 

 

 “I’ve discovered a method to help your friends,” Dumbledore was saying, pulling him from his thoughts. “However, it will be dependent on you, and your strength - both physical, mental and magical.  It is a great deal to ask of you -”

 

 “I’ll do it.  If it can save Harry and Draco, I’ll do it.”

 

 “I must impress upon you the gravity of the situation.  The brotherhood ritual that you three had used is extremely powerful magic, and even with this opportunity to save your friends -”

 

 “Please,” Callidus entreated.  “I’ll take any chance.  I can’t -” his mind reared away from the idea of ever losing Harry or Draco.  Longbottom’s death would haunt him forever, but to lose Harry or Draco would kill him.  Though in this case, it would be quite literal.

 

There was a look of deep respect in the Headmaster’s eyes when he nodded, and it made something within Callidus feel warm, even as he shivered.

 

 “What do I need to do?”

 

 “We cannot remove Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy from under the stasis spell.  It would likely kill them immediately.  But there is a form of magic that will enable you to venture into their minds, through a dream state.”

 

Something about the Headmaster’s words filled him with a deep disquiet.  Why did the idea of visiting someone in their dreams seem so familiar?  He searched his memories, trying to part the stubborn mists, but he could grasp onto nothing.  There was only a feeling, almost like deja vu, and a lingering sense of danger.  But then, why wouldn't it be dangerous?  His friends’ - or he should say brothers’ - lives were at stake. 

 

 “Ordinarily, the Healer would be the one casting the spell on the patient’s whose mind they wish to visit,” Dumbledore informed him.  “If there was more time, I would teach you the spell, since the link between you would be more stable.  However, given our circumstances, I have modified the spell so that I shall be casting it to link you three together.  The link should be strong enough to bring you to Mr Potter’s and Mr Malfoy’s mind once you have fallen asleep without needing to seek them out.  We will need to relax the stasis spell for this, because the unconsciousness of the stasis is too deep for either of them to dream.  But this means a greater risk.  Your time will be limited, Callidus.  The most telling sign is if the link should happen to grow unstable.  I cannot tell you what that will look like, but you will know.  Do you have any questions for me before we proceed?”

 

 “What am I supposed to do when I find Harry and Draco?”

 

 “You must aid them in mending their rift,” the Headmaster explained. “With the particular Brotherhood ritual you have chosen, I understand that the magic punishes betrayal?”

 

Callidus nodded.

 

 “Then it will be necessary for you to help them overcome the feelings of betrayal.  So long as the sense of treachery lingers in either of their hearts, the brotherhood ritual will be fatal to all of you.” 

 

The feeling of cold crept across Callidus’s skin once again.  He peeked over at Harry and Draco, both of whom appeared deceptively peaceful, as if they were merely sleeping, and it was strange to think that shaking them, and calling out: ‘wake up,’ would be ineffectual.  Another wave of cold encompassed him when he realized their lives were in  _ his _ hands.  Oh Merlin.  Could he even do this?  He  _ had _ to.

 

Dumbledore leaned forward, placing a hand on Callidus’s shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

 

The kind touch and solemn words soothed away a bit of his fear, and Callidus jerkily nodded. After a few more words of instruction, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast the spell upon Callidus, Harry, and finally Draco.  The Headmaster’s magic was powerful, and curiously reassuring. 

 

 “Now what?” Callidus murmured.

 

 “Now you sleep,” Dumbledore answered. 

 

Callidus hummed, his eyelids already at half-mast.  Distantly, he was aware that the sky had darkened.  It was night then; not day.  It felt like lifetimes ago that he had last slept at night.  Because the truth was, he still hadn't escaped the grip of the fifth years.  As he considered the older students, his heart seized in a sudden fear, but the power of his lassitude was too great and the blackness was coming for him.  He was unconscious before a sound escaped his lips, before he could tell Dumbledore that this was a terrible moment, a risky time.  But now, there would be no one to help him.  No one but himself. 

 

-o-

 

As Callidus returned to awareness, he recognized the sight of the Slytherin common room, bathed in a familiar green light.  The common room was empty, which was odd, and he kept feeling something pushing insistently in his mind.  He turned to look towards the immense fireplace, and spotted a familiar head of black hair sitting cross-legged at the sofa alone. 

 

Stepping forward, he asked: “Harry?”  What was Harry doing here without Draco? 

 

Harry started, and looked up towards him, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. “Cal.  Draco won't speak to me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them in a nervous (or guilty?) gesture. 

 

 “Draco?  Why?”

 

Harry gave him an odd look.  “Don't you remember?  You were there.”

 

The words were like a trigger, demolishing the blockage in Callidus’s mind, and his memories inundated him like the battering waves of a tsunami. The prank against Rowle. The fight between his best friends.  The Brotherhood bond.  The punishment of betrayal.  The possibility of death.  And more than that.  The fifth years.  It all came to him now - the way that they had attacked him, tortured him, in the realm of dreams.  And when Dumbledore cast the spell, it had been night.  He wasn't safe here.  And yet, there were no fifth years in sight, and he needed to mend Harry’s and Draco’s friendship.

 

 “Where’s Draco?  We need to speak to him.” 

 

Harry's eyes strayed towards the entrance to the boys’ dormitories. “He's locked himself up in the dorm.  He won't let me in.”  He lifted his gaze to meet Callidus’s, expression beseeching. “Will you speak to him for me?  He won't talk to me, but maybe he'll talk to you.”

 

Callidus nodded, striding towards the dormitories.  The dream distorted the space so that there was only one door in that corridor, and he jiggled at the handle.  It was locked. 

 

 “Go away,” came Draco's muffled voice from behind the door. 

 

 “Draco, this is Callidus.  Open the door.”

 

A pause.  And then: “I don’t want to speak to anybody right now.”

 

Callidus groaned.  Why did Draco have to be so obstinate?  “Draco, this is important.  It’s a matter of life and death.  We need to talk.”

 

 “Just leave me alone!”

 

Callidus gritted his teeth in frustration.  Did Draco not understand the concept of life and death?  Perhaps he needed to appeal to Draco’s selfishness.  “You will  _ die  _ if you don’t speak to me and Harry.”

 

 “Good!” Draco said after a moment.  “Maybe if I’m dead and gone, you’ll both finally appreciate me the way you evidently can’t while I’m alive.”

 

Merlin!  It was the most immature rationale he had ever heard.  He probably would have started pulling out his hair in aggravation, except that the hurt in Draco’s voice was obvious, even through the thick door.  But it occurred to him that this was just a dreamscape.  A locked door couldn’t really hold him back. And yet, if he barged into the room, couldn’t that potentially damage Draco’s trust in him?  He furrowed his brow.  Dealing with interpersonal matters was not among his strengths.

 

Deciding to swallow his pride, he said: “Please, can we just talk?  This isn’t just about you and Harry.  It - it affects me as well.”

 

Draco was silent, but it was a silence that gave him hope; it meant that Draco was no longer reacting, but that he was thinking.  He heard a sound from behind the door, thought the blond was about to open it, when suddenly his skin prickled with foreboding.  He felt eyes upon him before he heard them.

 

 “Well, well, look who decided to come out of hiding.  Our little treacherous coward shows his face,” Hoyt’s voice rang out, dripping derision.

 

To be stamped a traitor was something that he expected, but for Hoyt to call him a coward caused a flare of red across his vision.  His father’s face flashed across his mind's eye, drunk and radiating menace, presaging violence to come.  He thought of his fear for his mother, for the broken skin and mottled bruises that would come, of the horrible and infuriating helplessness that would make him shake.  There was nothing that he hated more then ever having to see that aspect of himself, to know the weakness in his own limbs, the ineffectualness of his words.

 

 “Don't call me a coward,” he ground out hoarsely.  Hoyt and her friends didn't know him; didn't know him at all. 

 

 “Cal?” came Harry’s voice from the common room. “Who are you speaking to?” just as Draco’s voice asked: “Did you say something?”  Hoyt was saying something undoubtedly nasty and mocking, but her words were flowing over him, unable to penetrate the loud panic in his ears.  And Alphie - Alphie just grinned, ravenous and half-mad.

 

Merlin, no.  He felt something like a fist gripping his throat, strangling him, his eyes darting back and forth from the fifth years, to Harry who was padding over.  And yet, neither Hoyt nor her friends turned towards Harry’s or Draco’s voice. 

 

 ‘Can they not see them?’ he wondered, biting off the words that were about to form on his tongue.   His words might not betray him, but it turned out that his eyes would.  Hoyt’s eyes had narrowed into slits, while dark-skinned Randle and mousy-haired Drefen were following the direction of his gaze.

 

 “Is someone else is here?” Randle murmured.

 

Hoyt stilled, like a hunting dog on a scent. 

 

 ‘Please, please, please,’ Callidus’s entreated, unable to utter words to beg his friends’ safety.  But he wasn't entirely helpless here, was he?  His time spent pouring over the Occlumency text had to amount to something. 

 

His scattered thoughts began to pulled themselves into some semblance of order, the chaff of needless worry ruthlessly discarded in favour of an ice-clear clarity. He needed to separate the fifth years from his more vulnerable friends.  He needed to do  _ something _ . 

 

It was no easy feat, but he stripped away all extraneous thoughts, to focus on a single one.  He could not tell if it was merely his imagination, but he sensed a burst of his own concentration and power, and the common room dissipated as he and the fifth years reappeared in one of the dungeon corridors, grey and nondescript.  He felt a small spark of pride, aglow in his chest.  Whatever bit of Occlumency he had picked up was helping if he could change his surroundings with this degree of firmness and control.

 

Hoyt’s eyes widened, before a cruel smile curved her lips. “Our little traitor has been working on strengthening his mind.   You know, that just makes it all the more fun when we finally tear it apart.”

 

Alphie let out a sound alarmingly like a giggle, chanting: “I’m going to rip you to shreds.  I’m going to dance in your blood,” oblivious to Drefen’s and Randle’s expressions of distaste.

 

 “But first -” Hoyt interrupted, “I do believe we’re not alone.  Who are you protecting, little traitor?  Did you somehow manage bring some mudbloods and blood traitors into your dream?”  She laughed, a sharp and ugly sound, like metal grinding together.  She looked back towards her friends. “Alphie, why don't I give you the honour of having your fun with this one.  As for us -” her eyes met with Drefen’s and Randle’s, “something different?  I do love the idea of a little hunt.”

 

 “No!” Callidus burst out, but Alphie’s wand was already on him, and his emotions were violently churning the still waters of his mind into a useless froth, and as Hoyt, Drefen and Randle turned their backs on him, Alphie gleefully spat out a word, and then there was only pain.


	41. Chapter 41

There was something about pain, something about the fact of existing in a state of pure and excruciating sensation that clarified the mind.  It drove everything away from him, drove away thoughts of Harry and Draco, drove away worries about the Orange Madness, and all that he wanted was for it to end.  Only this time, he wasn't entirely toothless.  He took that agony, focused on it, channeled his backbone of will, and slammed down his incipient Occlumency shield.  It was not powerful, it was not practiced (not nearly enough), but he felt a moment of emptiness, and when he was aware of the rest of his senses, he saw Alphie staring at him, mouth gaping open.

 

Alphie’s mouth snapped shut, his face turning a dull red, angry and confused about why his sadistic pleasure had been interrupted.  The other boy lifted his wand, ready to inflict pain once again, and there was no time to think, only act.  He focused his mind and (no, not the common room - Harry and Draco were in the common room) appeared in yet another corridor, another stretch of unending grey stone.

 

What should he do?  He couldn't spend his time running, as much as he wished to avoid being dream-tortured.   His friends’ - brothers’ - lives were on the line. He had to stop Hoyt and the other two, to somehow eject them from his mind.  The only question was, how?  

 

But it could wait.  He had to first make sure that Hoyt and the others wouldn't reach the common room, and if he had to use himself as bait, then so be it.  Merlin, that was a horrifyingly Gryffindor-ish thought.  He was spending far too much time with lions, and it was likely doing no favours for his life expectancy.  His steps faltered, as his Slytherin good sense came back to him, and he realized he needed to think.  

 

What could he do?  He could change his surroundings.  But from what he could remember, Hoyt could influence the surroundings as well, though he had doubts about Alphie’s abilities. He had tried attacking the fifth years before, and it had been ineffective, but his mind was stronger now.  Was there a way to hurt them?

 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand, and casting a stunning spell.  His wrist movement and incantation were perfect, and the spell came out looking exactly as it should have, and yet something felt wrong.  His spell felt like the walls around him did, like an illusion.  Why could the fifth years cast spells on him, while he couldn't cast spells on them?  He felt like he was failing to see something, like some part of the puzzle was missing.  If only he had magic sight.  If only he could see what he was doing, so that he knew what to correct.

 

To his amazement, he felt something; something that differed from the _stupefy_ he had tried to cast.  Whatever it was, it felt far more real than anything else had so far.  He looked down at his arms, and though he couldn’t see his magic, he could feel it, moving in the patterns that he was familiar with.  It seeped through his muscles, ran through his bloodstream, arced and leapt across his skin.

 

His eyes firming in concentration, he cast another stunning spell, but it was as worthless as the first, a stream of pretty lights and nothing more.  He focused his mind, pushing away his frustration, paying no heed to his surroundings, and instead just letting himself sense his own magic.  It was so close, just waiting for him to call upon it, and as he said another _stupefy_ , he felt it moving through him, from his solar plexus, up his shoulder, to his wand arm, and then out.  He blinked.  The stunning spell certainly looked the same, but he knew without doubt that it was different - that it would work.

 

But he couldn't dawdle.  He would have to practice casting spells in this dreamlike way, while trying to find Hoyt and her lot. He thought the layout of these hallways would be similar to the actual dungeons, the dream using reality as its basis.  However, he soon learned that he was wrong, that familiar markers didn’t lead him where he wanted to go, that some stretches of hallways were bizarrely long, with doors that opened to places they shouldn’t.

 

He thought of Harry and Draco, neither of them even knowing anything about this situation because he hadn’t explained that this was a construct in their heads, that the price of failing to reconcile meant death (because despite telling Draco, it was evident that he hadn’t taken Callidus seriously at all).  They weren’t even speaking to one another when he had left.  And what if Hoyt had already found them?  He felt sick and cold, cold down to the marrow of his bones, and the corridor wavered and darkened into grey-black to reflect his fears, the torches barely emitting light, the space more ominous than ever.  What was he supposed to do when this place followed no rhyme or reason, except -

 

Except this place reflected his mind, didn’t it?  Well, his mind, Harry’s mind, Draco’s mind, and possibly the fifth years minds as well.  He once again tried to force calmness upon himself, tried to remember that berating himself for his own weakness solved nothing (but self recriminations were so satisfying in that curious way).  Taking a steadying breath, he sunk his consciousness down into his magic, and when he could feel every bit of it, feel it inside and outside of himself, he changed the direction of his thoughts, aiming them towards Hoyt.  He knew that she had cast a spell to link their consciousness through this dream state - if he could find anyone, it would be her.

 

At first, it was difficult to sense anything beyond this corridor (and the newfound awareness that there was nothing beyond it, until his mind created something).  But then his mind stretched further outwards, and it turned out that something existed beyond this corridor after all because, as he had just been thinking, it wasn’t only his mind alone that created this dreamscape. He thought that he could identify Harry and Draco, though the pair of them felt like an interwoven tangle of magic, but he had seen their magic before, and more than that, he felt a connection to them, a bond.

 

He did not dare to go to them, not yet, though the temptation to make sure that they were all right tugged at him relentlessly as a series of increasingly worse ‘what ifs.’  Some corner of his awareness attached itself to their bond, needing that degree of closeness, at least.  It was time to stretch his mind towards finding Hoyt.  Only, he hadn’t considered that his choice might be taken out of his hands.

 

He was stepping forward cautiously, wand ready, when he felt Harry’s and Draco’s magic flare, a sensation that pickled along the bond like the press of hot needles almost, but not quite, breaking skin.  His instincts, already primed to anticipate danger, shrilled in alarm, jolting his heart into a wild gallop.  He didn't stop to think.  Concentrating on his friends, he casted away all other thoughts, letting his will direct his magic.

 

 “I said I'm sorry,” he heard Harry say, and when he opened his eyes, he was back in the Slytherin common room, though the walls had closed in around his friends so that the expanse of space was about a quarter of its original size, with only one set of furniture.  The fireplace looked disproportionately large, swallowing up the length of one wall.  The green lantern pulsed with vivid light, flickering like a flame.

 

 “Sorry?  You think a piddling apology is enough, after what you've done?” Draco's spat out, eyes flashing like mercury pools.

 

 “What else do you want?!” Harry cried. “I’ve said that you’re my best friend, and brother.  I’ve apologized.  Should I fall on my knees and beg?” It was then that Harry finally noticed Callidus.  “Cal!  Maybe you can help Draco to understand -”

 

Draco swept him a brief glance, before his eyes returned to boring holes into Harry’s head.  “What would he know?  In fact, what _did_ he know?  Did you tell him about your pranks, while leaving me out?  Did you confide in him behind my back?!”

 

 “I didn’t know anything!” Callidus broke in, interrupted from surveying the surroundings.

 

Where was the danger?  Except -

 

Callidus’s eyes widened.  No.  No!  If his friends continued to tear at each other's throats, if they deepened the feelings of betrayal, it would be a greater threat than anything that Hoyt could manage.  After all, Hoyt had no intention of killing him (‘just torture,’ his mind wryly supplied). He took a step forward to place himself between Harry and Draco, when he felt a sudden chill at the back of his neck, slithering down his spine.

 

 “I knew you'd lead me to them,” said a feminine voice, slimy with self-satisfaction.  “ Disgusting how you'd protect a group of Gryffindors in _our_ dungeons.” He whipped around, his wand aimed at the center of Hoyt’s chest.

 

 “ _Stupefy_!” he yelled, letting his magic course free.  This was no time for explanations, no time to draw out with a battle of wits.  He heard Harry saying: “Cal?  What's going on?  Who’re you trying to stun?”

 

Hoyt’s eyes widened, not anticipating the attack, but just because her own dueling instincts were rusted, the same couldn't be said for Randle.  Her dark-skinned friend shoved her aside, and the beam of the spell flew over them both, uselessly dissipating against the wall.

 

 “ _Stu_ -” before he could complete the intonation, Drefen’s wand was already pointed at Callidus, and a split second later, his nerve endings were being incinerated by a conflagration of pain.  His muscles seized up, and he fell to his knees, unable to stand.  He heard his name being called, recognized the voices of Harry and Draco, but as near as they were, they may as well have been on the other side of the planet.  Somehow, the pain intensified, ripping a scream from his throat, as Hoyt and Randle merged their magic with Drefen’s.  The only thing that could save him, that could make him of any used to his friends, was the strength of his own mind.

 

But Hoyt wasn't Alphie, and even as he tried to collect himself, he could tell that he was against a force far more in control, far more disciplined the Alphie could hope to be.  As Callidus gained ever more control of his mind, he was able to distance himself from the pain, able to finally think. The fact that Hoyt and her lot had been able to walk into his dreams for months without him remembering nettled his pride.  That part of him wanted nothing more then to finally defeat her, to stand victorious.  But he recognized that now wasn't the time; not when Harry and Draco were depending on him.  As with Alphie, he attempted to bring down the full force of his emergent Occlumency shields, dislodging Randle and Drefen, but Hoyt’s magic overpowered him, sharp and quick as the lash of a whip. The pain raced up and down his spine, radiating out to his limbs, but being able to eject Randle and Drefen had given him hope, and he gave his shields yet another push.

 

 “You don't stand a chance against me,” Hoyt snapped.  Harry and Draco we're still calling his name, still trying to make sense of what was happening.  ‘At least they stopped fighting,’ he thought. ‘this pain is good for _something_.’ But then, he felt a familiar hot prickle along the length of the bond and over his body, before his chest exploded in glass shards of pain - pain that had nothing to do with Hoyt’s magic.  He heard Harry and Draco cry out, felt their hands fall away from him and knew that they felt it too.  His eyes widened in horror.  Was it too late?

 

A fraction of the pain stopped, and he blinked, wondering if his attempts at Occlumency had worked.  His chest still continued to sting, each movement making him feel like broken bits of metal were abrading his insides.

 

 “It's a relief, isn't it?” Hoyt murmured. “It's nice to have a moment to breathe after being in pain.  But you know -”

 

The pain in his chest amplified to terrifying proportions, but it was Harry’s and Draco’s screams the frightened him the most.

 

 “What's wrong with you?” Hoyt said scornfully. “Aftershocks? Heh, maybe my magic is even stronger than I thought.  But you know, I'll go easy on you if you reveal your traitor friends.  I've always wanted to bring down a lion.”

 

The ‘never’ was on the tip of his tongue; the urge to protect Harry and Draco was the only thing guiding him the only directive in his agony-addled mind, the only thing that felt right and good (though since when did he care about right and good?)  Until something in Hoyt’s words clued him in.  She still believed that he was harbouring Gryffindors?  What would she do when faced with Harry or Draco?  Faced with Slytherins who had power and influence?

 

Under any other circumstances, the risk would have been too great.  If he had an opportunity to think, he wouldn't have wanted to expose his friends to Hoyt’s method of torture, knowing that she could easily get away with it merely by making her victims forget.  But there was no opportunity to think, not when Harry and Draco were whimpering and panting from the pain, not when both of them were already crumbling, already falling.

 

But how was he supposed to do this?  How did Hoyt connect Drefen’s and Randle’s mind to his dreams?

 

 “Well?” Hoyt demanded.

 

 “G-give me a moment,” Callidus rasped.  This time, instead of using Occlumency to force someone out, he used it on himself in an attempt to compartmentalize his pain.  He then focused on stretching his magical awareness.  With Harry and Draco next to him, their presences felt vibrant and alive, though agitated. But he was finally able to feel Hoyt as well, foreign and malevolent, reflecting her cruel intentions.  There were other strands of magic that linked them all: the Slytherin common room, for one, which enabled them to share a single dreamscape.  Somehow, he would have to tie his own strands between his friends - brothers - to Hoyt.

 

It was a difficult endeavour.  He was too much of a neophyte to the art of Occlumency, and in the end, it was necessary to drop his protections to channel enough of his magic so that Harry, Draco, and Hoyt could be linked.  But something occurred to him then.  He couldn't let Hoyt see his friends while they were on the floor, writhing in pain. But then again, he couldn't speak to them either, not without Hoyt hearing everything he was saying.

 

What came next was nothing he planned, but rather, a spontaneous thought that had burst into his mind.  It was the sort of thought that Gryffindor might listen to, while a Slytherin would carefully consider it, weighing out all the advantages and disadvantages before acting.  But time was running out, and lives were on the line, and so he sent Harry and Draco his own magic, willing protection and healing into every loop and arc of it.  Though it took a while, and though he couldn't answer their questions of: “What's going on?  What's happening?” they still sat up, looking pale, but not looking hopelessly exposed, hopelessly weakened.  With a final thrust of effort, he linked Harry’s and Draco’s magic to Hoyt’s.

 

The fifth years aimed their wands at the younger Slytherins as soon as they appeared, but their eyes widened in horror when they realized their targets.

 

 “This is bad,” Drefen hissed, just as Draco snapped out (thankfully in his usual imperious tone): “What is the meaning of this?”

 

 “Ros, _do_ something,” Randle said through clenched teeth.

 

Hoyt shook her head. “I - I -”

 

 “Just wait until my father finds out about this,” Draco continued, offended by the way that the fifth year’s wands were trained upon them.

 

 “We need to get out of here,” Randle said. “Ros.  Ros!   It's your magic - make them forget!”

 

Hoyt blinked, slowly coming back to her senses. “Right.  Right.”

 

 “What are you going on about?” Draco squawked.  But Hoyt was already pursing her lips, eyes squinted in concentration.  And then -

 

 “What's going on?” Harry asked yet again. “I keep - ow -” he clutched at his chest, “why does it hurt so much?”

 

 “I'm just relieved the two of you are finally talking,” Callidus answered. “I thought you would never leave the dorm, and speak to each other.”  He furrowed his brow, feeling like there was something that he was forgetting, when something flared in his memory, and he gasped. “Alphie - one of the fifth years - he still running around out there.”

 

Harry turned to him, startled.  “What?”

 

 “There's no time!” Callidus exclaimed. “I meant to tell you earlier, except you wouldn't stop quarreling.  Whatever is between you, whatever breach, you _must_ mend it.  If not, both of you will die, all of us die.”

 

 “Die?” Harry echoed.

 

 “Are you serious?” Draco asked.

 

 “Yes!  What do you think this pain in our chests is?  You were the one to tell us about the brotherhood bond, Draco.  You, of all people should remember what happens when one brother betrays another.”

 

Draco's eyes grew wide, his eyes slowly sliding towards Harry.

 

Harry looked from Draco to Callidus.  “Wait - betrays?”  His attention returned back to Draco. “You feel - betrayed?”

 

Draco pursed his lips together, gray eyes flickering with hurt.  He looked as though he wanted to deny the words, but couldn't, and so instead dared to say nothing.

 

 “Oh Merlin,” Harry moaned.  “I'm so sorry - I didn't realize - I swear, if I knew -”

 

Draco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, not looking away from Harry for a single moment.

 

 “Is there a way - that is - could I make it up to you somehow?” Harry entreated. “Please? I -” his voice broke, “I don't want to think that I've ruined everything.  You - you and Callidus are the most important people to me.”

 

Draco's gaze strayed away, the press of his lips and the tension around his eyes evincing his deep contemplation.   Callidus felt the sharpness in his chest begin to ease, and he held his breath, hopeful that everything would work out.  But before Draco could speak, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

 

 “Found you!” came a sing-song voice, from someone who didn't always seem entirely sane.  Callidus pulled out his wand, and spun to meet Alphie.  He wondered why Alphie was here while Hoyt and her lot weren’t, but now wasn't the time to puzzle it out. Alphie let out a cry, and Callidus felt a wave of magic, like a gust of wind against his skin.  But already, his Occlumency shields were in place, and the magic was easily deflected.

 

 “Not fair!” Alphie whinged. “You should be screaming!  You should be on the floor moaning in pain!”  He threw another spell, and this one was just as ineffective as the first.  Callidus let out a low laugh.

 

 “You think you can just torture me for months, and get away with it?” Callidus said, his anger rippling beneath his skin, cold and pinned upon the other boy.

 

 “Who are you speaking to, Cal?” Harry asked.

 

Callidus glanced back towards the other two. “Fix what's between you.  Don't worry about me.  There’s something I have to take care of.”

 

 “How would you like to taste some torment of your own?” Callidus asked, letting his words pour out in a silken stream.  “How would you like to feel what I felt?” Amassing his magic, he sent it forth through his wand towards the other boy, and Alphie cried out.  Yet, the spell flickered out, with no more than a sting.  Furious, Callidus tried again, but the effect was the same.  Concentrating harder this time, he sent forth his magic, but this time, there was a strange undulating distortion, a hard jerk in his mind, and he found himself someplace new, someplace on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

 

Harry and Draco were gone, but Alphie stood in front of him, blinking and confused.  At Alphie’s feet were the corpses of several small animals, among them rats, cats and birds, dismembered in some cases, disemboweled in others.  It took several moments for Callidus to realize that he was no longer within his own dreamscape.

 

 “It appears that your mind is just as vile a place as you are, _Alphie_.”  He spoke the other boy’s name with soft derision.

 

 “This is my - what?  How did you get here?”

 

Callidus sneered. “Of course, it would be too much to expect that you could be articulate.  But those animals at your feet probably contain more working brain cells than you do.”

 

Alphie did not bother to reply, but instead attempted to cast a spell at Callidus.  It was a useless effort.  He stared down at his wand, eyes bulging as if unable to believe that his magic could fail him.

 

Callidus took a step forward.  “I can see why torture would have its appeal.  I'd like nothing more than to spend all night paying back the suffering you inflicted on me.” He felt a twinge in his chest, Harry and Draco’s faces appearing in his mind. “But fortunately for you, I have more important things to attend to than to make you sing with agony.  Instead, I'm going to make sure that you never hurt anyone ever again.”

 

Callidus couldn't exactly explain what he did next.  It came as a flash of inspiration, based on the disparate things that he had read about, and in truth, he didn't even know what the end result would be.  All he knew was that Alphie was a threat, that Hoyt had taught him her magic, and unlike Hoyt, Alphie didn't actually have any self-control.  Alphie was like a rabid dog. The only recourse, the only way to protect his friends from this wretched boy, was to corral him.

 

Channeling his magic, he let the trees of the forest spring up around him, growing in a way that was unnatural in real life so that their trunks formed an impenetrable wall, and their branches an impenetrable ceiling.  It was a living cage, woven from his own magic merging with Alphie’s in an inseparable lattice.

 

 “What are you doing?” Alphie demanded, but Callidus only smirked.

 

 “Sleep well, Alphie,” he said, ready to pull out of the other boy’s mind.  Unfortunately, he misjudged, and Alphie would not let himself be so easily defeated without a fight.  Just as he felt himself slipping out of Alphie’s mind, he was pulled back in again with a rough yank, falling against the forest floor in a rough tumble.  Callidus winced, before turning to sprawl out on his back.  He realized that his entire body was aching, weak from the earlier tortures, and weak from the punishment of the brotherhood bond.  Not only that, but he had sent his magic towards Harry and Draco to strengthen them.  But wait, why had he done that?  He pressed his fingers the bridge of his nose, frustrated by the memories that kept flitting away from him.

 

 “What did you do to me?” Alphie’s cried. “Let me out of this place!   I won't let you go, until you let me go.”

 

Callidus laughed, a humourless and bitter sound.  He didn't bother to look at Alphie, staring up at the branches instead.  “I think not.” He was so tired, just has he had been in the past month due to his sleep deprivation.  His magic laid low against his skin, drained from this night's efforts.

 

 “Magic isn't the only way you can hurt a person, you know,” Alphie said.  From the corner of his eye, Callidus saw a gleam of silver.  “There's always the muggle way.  Ros doesn't know this, but sometimes muggle ways are better.  There's something about being able to physically hurt something with your own hands, to be powerful without even using magic.”

 

 “You’re sick,” Callidus said, but he was too tired to get up, indifferent to Alphie’s attempts at frightening him.  Narrowing his eyes, he caused the dagger in Alphie’s hands to disappear. “You forget that this isn't the real world.  Besides, you don't have to do anything to make me suffer.  Your idiotic presence itself is agony enough.”

 

Resigning himself to his fate, he let his eyes drift closed.  Since he was here, he might as well sleep.  Somehow, his mind slipped away to blackness, as Alphie cried: “Hey!  Hey!  Come back here!  Come back!”

 

-o-

 

 “Cal?  Cal!”

 

Harry's voice was strangely close to him, and when Callidus peeled his eyes open, he found himself face-to-face with a pair of bright green eyes, brimming with concern.

 

 “Callidus,” said Draco, appearing next to Harry. “You're back.” The blond smiled, and Callidus was surprised by the open warmth there.

 

 “You’re awake!” Harry cried. “We thought - well -”

 

 “Don't crowd around,” came the voice of Madam Pomfrey.  Her wand was out, casting a diagnostic spell, and she nodded with satisfaction at what she saw. “How are you feeling?  Is there still any pain?”

 

Callidus furrowed his brows, but then shook his head. “I - I’m fine I'm fine,” he croaked, startled by the roughness of his own voice.

 

The matron nodded again. “Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, what are you doing out of your beds?” she chastised, shooing his friends away.  She returned her attention to Callidus. “The Headmaster will want to speak to you.”

 

Callidus sighed, knowing it was necessary but not looking forward to it.  When the infirmary doors burst open, Callidus was expecting to see Dumbledore.  What he was not expecting was for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to sweep into the room, expressions barely composed and naked concern in their eyes.

 

 “What is the meaning of this?” Lucius Malfoy demanded, just as Dumbledore calmly entered the room. Narcissa rushed up to Draco’s side, her hands as graceful as lilies as they pressed against Draco’s cheeks.

 

 “How is it that I had to learn that my son and heir was in the infirmary for over a week from one of my associates?” Lucius said, his voice controlled despite the dangerous sword-like edge. “Isn't it the school’s responsibility to inform parents when anything befalls their children?”

 

Callidus could hear Draco grousing: “ _Mother_ !  I’m fine!  Wait - did father just say _a week_?”

 

 “I assure you, your son is perfectly healthy,” said Dumbledore, while Callidus wondered how the Headmaster could remain so serene when Lucius’s words were a barely concealed threat.

 

Lucius’s grip on his walking stick tightened.  “He should have been in St Mungo’s, with a team of professional healers!”  He returned his attention to his son, walking up to the side of his bed, Dumbledore following behind sedately.

 

 “On the contrary, a team of healers could have done nothing for him - and in fact, would have been too busy with the Orange Madness to help your son,” Dumbledore replied. “This was the very best place that he could be.”

 

Though Lucius appeared ready to argue, he instead turned to face his son. “What happened here, Draco?”

 

Draco paled, a sight which puzzled Callidus until he remembered that their brotherhood bond was a secret from his parents.  It was clear that Draco didn't know what to say.

 

 “It's my fault, Mr Malfoy,” Harry piped up, his expression doleful.

 

 ‘No!’ Callidus thought, just as Draco’s eyes widened, his head shaking.

 

 “Oh?  How so, Harry?” Lucius asked, voice deceptively honeyed, and stepping closer to Harry’s bed so that Harry noticed neither Callidus’s nor Draco’s expression of panic.

 

 “I was the one who betrayed the bond -”

 

 “You've seen now that your son is perfectly fine, but the boys shall need time and rest to fully recover,” Dumbledore cut in.

 

Lucius ignored the headmaster.  “What bond?”

 

 “Erm -” Finally, Harry broke eye contact with Lucius, peeking towards Draco, now nervous. But Draco was no longer shaking his head, too frozen by his dismay.

 

 “The Headmaster is right,” Madam Pomfrey cut in, “I won't have you stressing my patients when they are still recovering.  I must ask that you leave, though you can return tomorrow.”

 

Lucius narrowed his eyes at the matron. “Then I am not here as a visiting parent but in the capacity as Chairman of Hogwarts Board of Governors.” He turned back to Harry.  “And I asked again: What.  Bond.”

 

Harry's lips were pressed into a thin line, now unwilling to speak, and he shook his head.  It was a stunning act of courage and foolhardiness, on par with any Gryffindor.  Callidus felt a strange ache, as he looked upon his brave friend.  There was something unbearable about seeing him looking so vulnerable and alone, being interrogated by one of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain.

 

In the end, it was Draco that cracked. “It was a brotherhood bond!”

 

Lucius tore his gaze away from Harry, pale eyes boring down on his son.

 

 “This is unacceptable!” Madam Pomfrey cried. “You may be on The Board of Governors, but I am the one with the authority here in the infirmary.  And since these boys are my patients, I insist that you leave.”

 

Lucius opened his mouth, but Narcissa suddenly stood up, laying her hands upon his arm. “We can discuss this later, dear,” she murmured, betraying no emotion in her mellifluous voice, and yet, her touch calmed Lucius as powerfully as any spell.

 

 “Very well,” Lucius said.  He looked back down at Draco. “We shall discuss this later.”

 

Draco couldn't meet his father's eyes. “Yes, father.”

 

 “I'm relieved to see that you are well,” added Narcissa, and that drew a smile from Draco’s lips.  When the elder Malfoys finally left, Callidus felt as if he could breathe again.

 

 “I'm sorry!” Harry burst out. “I didn't mean to let that slip!”

 

 “I know,” Draco sighed.

 

 “What's done is done,” Dumbledore murmured. “And your actions came from the heart.  We shall deal with matters as they arise.”  He meant Callidus’s eyes. “You're back with us, Callidus.  Your friends were quite worried when you failed to wake.”

 

Callidus suddenly remembered Alphie, suddenly knew that Hoyt had been attacking him in his dreams, but he said nothing of this.  He had a feeling that he could deal with it henceforth. Instead, he merely nodded, wondering what had become of Alphie.  He supposed that he would find out soon enough. Dumbledore asked a few more questions, made a few more remarks about how glad he was that the trio were alive and well (sounding dotty and grandfatherly as he went on about love and friendship and brotherhood and love some more, blue eyes scintillating like stars), before he finally left.  Then, Harry and Draco had their own questions, and once he had answered all of them, Callidus was completely drained.  For once, he was glad for Madam Pomfrey’s interruption, insisting that the three of them needed to sleep.  And despite weeks on end of being afraid of sleeping, it still came easily to him, a soft blanket of soothing nothingness.

 

-o-

 

When Callidus returned to consciousness, the infirmary was shrouded in darkness.  It was the middle of the night, and yet he was fully awake and alert.  He peeked over to the other beds, and saw the softly breathing lumps that indicated that Harry and Draco were sleeping. His mind drifted towards recent events, a chill sweeping over his skin when he thought about how close he and his brothers had come to death.  And now, too, he finally knew what Hoyt had been doing to him, though memories of her actions still remained fuzzy.  However, everything that Alphie had done was clear, and he knew that Hoyt was the one to teach Alphie.  Curious to think that in this way, Alphie had given away her secret in the end.

 

It was hard to believe that he had been here for a week.  What must Hermione, Caiside, and Ginny think?  He inhaled sharply when something else occurred to him.  Exams!  Had he missed them?  Oh Merlin, he had been so tired that it would be a veritable miracle if he could remember anything from his revisions.  What if he failed all his classes? (Well, he wouldn't fail potions - he knew that too well).  He groaned, before wondering whether it would help to study now. Didn't he have his book bag on hand?

 

But wait - what about the Orange Madness?  He still had to write Wystan about what he had learned!  He looked over towards the side table, feeling his eyes bulge when he noticed all the get well cards and letters.  His lips drew downwards.  If he was receiving get well cards, then how was it that the elder Malfoys hadn't heard about Draco's condition until today?  Especially with the way that news spread in Slytherin House.  Students were always writing home to their parents whenever anything newsworthy happened.  Unless - was it possible?  Could Dumbledore have stopped the owl post until Callidus, Harry, and Draco had recovered?  Lighting a dim _lumos_ , he picked up the stack of cards, riffling through them, and seeing nothing from the Filodoxos (aside from Caiside).  It seemed probable.

 

As he glanced through the various cards and letters, he stilled when he spotted Wystan’s familiar handwriting.  Setting all the other letters aside, he quickly opened it.

 

He skipped over the introductions. _Our researchers have carried out another detailed experiment, and more and more, we're convinced that the Orange Madness is a created disease.  We're still not sure what to do with this information.  And to make matters worse, knowing that the disease was made in a lab hasn't brought us any closer to a cure._

 

_It's terrifying, but the disease seems to be harming the youngest victims the most.  I'm sure you've read in the paper about the second fatality, a seven year old half-blood.  I suppose it's a good thing that muggleborn children are living in the muggle world because I hate to imagine what would happen to them if they were exposed to the disease.  I'm sorry if this letter sounds particularly morose.  To be honest, everything I learn just exhausts me._

 

_However, I have finally found the time to look into that enchantment that you were curious about.  It took me ages to track down the wizard who performs the services, but it turns out that one of my contacts works for him, so it was really a matter of asking her to take a look at some of his old documents and paperwork.  Whatever works, yeah?_

 

_Anyway, the enchantment you were wondering about, the one commissioned by Malfoy, is Dark, but not in a dangerous way, so don't worry.  Actually, it's a rather curious enchantment, or series of enchantments I should say.  There are a number of protective enchantments upon the pendant - you said it was a pendant, right?  But there's also another enchantment that is most definitely illegal.  It's in the same family as compulsion spells, but nowhere near as severe.  I suppose you could say it's more of an influence spell or enchantment. It doesn't force the witch or wizard to act a certain way, but it affects them nonetheless by making use of what is innate._

 

_The enchantment gives a gentle push towards an affinity for Dark.  If you feel anger, it will amplify that anger.  If you feel hate, it amplifies the hate, and so on.  But it doesn't create anything that isn't there, and it doesn't turn you into something that you don't already have the potential to be.  It's rather curious, actually.  Anyone with a strong enough will won't be affected by it._

 

_As for the other enchantment you were curious about, the one that can protect you from ingested substances, it'll cost about 103 galleons to have an item of your choice enchanted.  Expensive, I know._

 

The rest of the letter was mostly news about FLAME and Calypso, so Callidus set it down, breathing deeply to still the slight trembling in his hands.  He had been expecting so much worse.  He had wanted to pin every negative action that he had perceived from Harry on the pendant.  And while it was disturbing that the pendant was still influencing his behaviour, it didn't change the fact that it was still Harry who had chosen to act.

 

It was unfortunate that he couldn't use magic sight to see the magic from inorganic objects.  It would have been interesting to see how the pendant affected Harry’s magic.  But then, like a bolt of lightning, something occurred to him.  He was almost afraid of getting his hopes up, and yet, now that the idea had infiltrated his mind, it would not let go.

 

He pulled out the owl sight potion and Longbottom’s brew from his bag.  After brushing the owl sight potion over his eyelids, he climbed out of bed, marveling at how much steadier he felt this night compared to his previous attempts of climbing out of bed.  Creeping over to Harry’s bedside, he pulled the dragon-fang pendant out from under Harry's ropes and over his head.  He peered down at the fang, using his magical sensitivity to probe it, but his encounter with Alphie had drained him more than he realized, and he felt no more than a faint darkness.  Shaking his head, he closed his fingers over the pendant, and sneaked towards the curtains that shielded the disease to students, uncapping Longbottom’s brew and vapourizing it.

 

His chest constricted painfully when he saw how much dimmer Longbottom’s magic had become, not to mention the other students, but he didn't know them the way that he knew Longbottom.  Taking the pendant, he looped it around Longbottom’s neck, ruthlessly stamping down the hope that dared to arise in his chest.  He was too afraid to hope.  And yet, he had to try this, and if it was a dead end, then at least he would know.

 

He took a step back, knowing it would be easier to see all of Longbottom's magic that way.  The whites and yellows were faint, like the flicker of a candle that had too little wick to burn.   Drawing forth his last scraps of magical sensitivity, he focused on the Gryffindor.  For a moment, it seemed like nothing had changed.  But then, he felt something, felt a cold and dark hostility, as if the magic was testing him, testing his danger to the supine boy.  And then a new colour began to emerge in Longbottom's signature, a beautiful shade of deep blue that often surrounded Harry.  

 

Unlike the whites and yellows, there was a strength in the emerging blue arcs, weaving in and out of Longbottom’s skin like embroidery thread.   But then came and unexpected flash of light, and a noise like a distant horn, and moments later, the privacy curtains were swept open as Madam Pomfrey dashed into the room.

 

 “What are you doing here?” the matron exclaimed.

 

 “I -” Callidus could think of no excuse, and to claim that he was curious sounded _wrong_.

 

“The monitoring spell has indicated that there's been a change in Mr Longbottom’s status.  Did you -”  she waved her wand over Longbottom’s body, shaking her head. “How can this be?  This is - this is -”

 

 “Is he worse?” Callidus asked fearfully.

 

The matron shook her head again. “No.  He's better.  He's getting stronger.”  Her brows drew together. “What's this around his neck?”

 

Callidus stilled, wondering how he could possibly answer.  The idea that Longbottom could be getting better still hadn't penetrated his mind, still seemed too amazing to believe, but now his mind was tripping over itself trying to come up with a plausible explanation for the matron.

 

 “It's a pendant.  It belongs to Harry - but it has protective qualities, so I thought, well, I hoped -”

 

Madam Pomfrey’s expression softened. “You were trying to help.  Whatever you did, it’s done more for him than anything else I’ve tried.” She studied the dragon-tooth. “I’m going to have to send it to the researcher’s at St Mungo’s to study.”

 

 “It doesn’t belong to me -”

 

 “I believe that Mr Potter will understand.  This will save lives.”

 

There was nothing Callidus could do but nod.

 

 “Now, back to bed.  I’ll forgive you for your wanderings this time.” Madam Pomfrey’s smile was soft, and kind, and the ache that tightened in his chest whenever he thought of Longbottom eased.

 

-o-

 

The trio were released from the hospital just in times for exams, and it would have seemed like the worst possible nightmare scenario if Callidus hadn’t just been at death’s door a few short days ago.  He had used every free moment in the infirmary to revise, and while he was sure he could do well in his finals, it wouldn’t be at the standards he had hoped for.  

 

When the trio were finally permitted visitors, not only did the Gryffindor girls swarm upon them, bursting with worry, but so too did the Slytherins.  Pansy, and Blaise teased Callidus and Harry for being magnets of disaster, drawing Draco into their scrapes.  Hermione came close to having a meltdown, fretting about Callidus’s grades.  No one but the matron, Dumbledore (and now the Malfoys) knew how close the trio had been to dying.  Callidus supposed it was for the best.

 

He learned later (once the mad rush of exams were over), that Alphie had fallen into a sleep, and failed to awaken.  It explained why Hoyt, Randle, and Drefen kept giving Callidus frightened looks, even though he did not have any recollection of personally hurting them.  No one, not even Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey, could make sense of what had happened to Alphie, and for that, Callidus was grateful.  He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about Alphie’s fate.  The older boy had been a nasty person, and while most of Hogwarts might be happy to label all Slytherins as mean and nasty, Alphie was worse than most.

 

Draco’s parents did return to Hogwarts to speak to him, but they did so without Callidus’s and Harry’s presence, and when they asked Draco what his parents had said, he had pressed his lips together and shook his head, refusing speak.  However, he did not appear upset by their words, and Callidus soon forgot about it.

 

Slytherin ended up winning the Quidditch Cup, but the House Cup went to the Gryffindors (in no small part thanks to all the points that Hermione racked up in class).  Callidus couldn't bring himself to be too upset.  Yes, the Great Hall might have been draped in red and gold, but he was alive, and the feasts felt more like a celebration of life than a celebration of Gryffindor merits.

 

And soon, it was the morning of their departure, and the trio we're seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for one last breakfast.

 

 “Two weeks with my aunt and uncle, but then I can spend the rest of the summer at Hogwarts again,” Harry remark, smile bittersweet.  Two weeks with his muggle relatives was still two weeks too long.  He rubbed his hand against his neck and then paused, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “Hey!  What happened to my necklace?”

 

Callidus blinked. With the rush of finals, he had forgotten to tell Harry that he had removed the pendant and had given it to Longbottom and Madam Pomfrey.  He was surprised that Harry hadn't even noticed its absence until now.

 

 “St Mungo’s probably has it now,” Callidus murmured. “There was something I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek, before deciding it might be easier to simply show Harry Wystan’s letter.  Pulling it out of his book bag, he handed it to the other boy.

 

As Harry scanned over the words, his eyes grew wide. “C-can I show this to Draco?”

 

Callidus pursed his lips, belatedly remembering that the letter also contained information about the Orange Madness. “Swear that you won't tell anyone what’s in it.  Both of you.”

 

Harry was quick to swear, but Draco bit his lower lip uncertainly, before finally agreeing.  When he saw what Wystan had written, his own eyes widened as well. “I -  I didn't realize the enchantment would do that.  I swear, Harry, I never asked for - I only meant for it to contain protective enchantments.”

 

Harry hummed before giving Draco a sympathetic smile. “I know you wouldn't have done anything like that on purpose.  I just - well - this is a lot to think about.  I can't believe -” he ran his fingers through his hair, making the wayward strands look more unruly than ever. “Oh Merlin, and then what I did to Rowle -” he shook his head. “It seems like such a fantastic idea at the time, but I completely ruined her reputation, didn’t I?”

 

The trio looked towards the seventh years, who ate their breakfast in a subdued silence.  As much as Callidus dislike Rowle, he found himself saying: “It's not too late to apologize.”  The apology wouldn't be for Rowle’s sake anyway.  It was Harry who would have to live with the guilt, and Callidus didn't want Harry to suffer that.  Besides, even if Harry did apologize, Rowle was the one who would have to live with the knowledge that all her friends had turned against her, and Harry would have still gotten his revenge.  With trust broken, Rowle’s friendships would never be the same again.

 

 “I -”  Harry knit his brows, before sighing. “Yeah.  Maybe I should.”

 

Just as Harry stood up and stepped cautiously towards the end of the table, the owl post arrived.  Draco unfolded the _Daily Prophet_ , and it was much easier to see the headline without Harry sitting between them.

 

 _CURE FOR THE ORANGE MADNESS FINALLY FOUND_ , the headline jubilantly announced.   He angled himself closer to Draco, and read over the article, aware of the excitement that was blooming all around him, as the good news rained upon them after a long drought.  The article gave no specifics about the cure, no mention of anything about Light or Dark magic, no mention even of the pendant. Only one other thing caught his eye: a separate article about how the bill for the muggleborn registry had been rescinded.

 

Callidus wasn't entirely sure what to think.  But then, how would people react if they knew that the disease had specifically targeted those who exclusively used Light magic, with the only cure being Dark magic?  He supposed that the propaganda machines would struggle to spend that particular tale; especially since Wystan had kept the fact that the disease was manufactured a secret in the end.  When Callidus had asked about it, the older boy had merely explained that revealing the secret would only make the perpetrators more careful, that he still had a great deal more research to do and didn't want to show his hand.  At least the muggleborn registry was no longer a threat.

 

By the time Harry had returned to his seat, the seventh years were tentatively speaking to Rowle, and Harry was wearing a tremulous smile.  Neither Harry nor Draco asked about what had happened to the pendant.  And as the knowledge of the Orange Madness’s cure spread from student to student, it was impossible to let troubled thoughts carry any weight.

 

He was alive, his friends were alive, and even Longbottom was alive.  His exam results might have been better, he might not have met all his goals when it came to his personal potions projects, but being alive had never tasted so sweet.

 

Soon, that they were all boarding the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross station.  Joy for the long-awaited break mingled with sadness at the thought of friends being parted.  It was when they were settled in their compartment that Draco finally thought to ask: “By the way Harry, that prank of yours - not the one with Euphemia Rowle, but the other one, with all the noise - how did you plan it?”

 

 “Oh,” Harry's cheeks coloured red, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you remember that Quidditch match where I got hit by the bludger, and Lockhart vanished my bones?”

 

Callidus’s and Draco’s expressions darkened.  How could they forget such a harrowing moment?

 

 “Anyway,” Harry continued, “when I was in the infirmary, I met up with Luna.”  Upon seeing their blank looks, he elaborated: “Luna Lovegood.  Remember?  Our first prank?  We saw her in the library, and she had an empty vapour bomb container?”

 

Draco's eyebrows flew up.  “That barmy Ravenclaw?”

 

 “She's not barmy - she's just a little different, that's all.  Since we were both stuck there, we started talking about the first prank, and I mentioned that it would be fun to do something that would make everyone laugh and feel good, so we came up with the idea together.  She's actually really clever.  I can see why she was sorted into Ravenclaw.  We mostly spoke using Hedwig.”

 

Draco hummed, before the corner of his lips crooked up in a smile. “Speaking of making everyone laugh, Lockhart met a pretty fitting fate, didn’t he?”

 

Harry burst out into laughter, and even Callidus felt his cheeks pulling up in a grin. “Who would have ever thought that he'd be brought low by his own celebrity?” Harry chortled. “I can't believe Colin Creevey managed to take those pictures of Lockhart when he snuck out skinny-dipping in the lake.”

 

 “I can't believe the photos circulated as rapidly as they did,” Callidus muttered. “The girls were certainly happy.”

 

Draco snorted.  “They can't have been _that_ happy.  His - _parts_ \- were less than impressive.”

 

Callidus arched an eyebrow. “You were looking?”

 

 “Everyone was looking!” Draco burst out. “It was impossible to miss, standing the way he was, with everything - ugh.” He shuddered.

 

 “To be fair, cold water isn't exactly kind to anyone's bits,” Harry mused. “It was still hilarious though.”

 

They spent the rest of the trip speculating about their third year subjects, and before long, they were at King’s Cross station, and Callidus spotted Caiside making her way over towards the Filodoxos.

 

 “Don't forget to write, both of you,” Draco said. “And we need to make plans to get together sometime this summer.”

 

 “I don't know if I'll be able to when I'm living with my aunt and uncle, but I'll definitely write once I'm at Hogwarts.”

 

 “I doubt anything of interest will happen this summer, but nonetheless, I shall keep you both informed,” Callidus said, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.  It would only be a couple months before he saw them again.

 

After saying a final goodbye, the three of them parted, and Callidus found himself thinking yet again the that it was good to be alive, that it was good to have friends, that it was good to have brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain loose ends will be important in the next part of the series (which I'll post immediately). I'll also be introducing new POVs (Draco & Hermione), but Callidus will be the main character. I've also been reading more about how to write, so I hope I can fix some weak points in my story telling, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> In canon, exams are cancelled... poor kids can't catch a break
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


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